The Gift of Grace
by The Pardo Girls
Summary: Ranger asks Steph to work on a special case. A personal one. He needs her help in providing protection for an old friend who witnessed a murder. The job requires Steph to stay with this friend in one of RangeMan's safe houses. As Steph gets to know Ranger's friend, she begins to wonder about the exact nature of this woman's relationship with Ranger. Cowritten by Sonomom & Jago-ji.
1. Chapter 1

**The Gift of Grace**

 _ **We use them for fun and not for profit.**_

AN: There is an old country song titled "That was a River, This is the Ocean." Sonomom heard the song on the radio and told Jago-ji, "There's a fanfiction story in that song." A short time later, Chapter 1 appeared in Sonomom's inbox, and she smiled widely, because Jago-ji apparently thought so, too. The subsequent chapters flew rapidly between both writers' inboxes, and soon a new story was born. Now posting under the name The Pardo Girls, Sonomom and Jago-ji hope you're smiling by the time you finish the first chapter! A new chapter will be posted daily, M-F, until done.

 **Chapter 1 - Saving Grace**

After disconnecting his phone, Ranger leaned back in his chair, a frown marring his normally expressionless face. The call had left him with conflicting emotions.

At first, he'd been delighted at hearing her voice, but her words–her plea–had aroused his protective nature. Indeed, it had aroused more than that. He hadn't seen her in years, but her voice could still stir deep feelings in him. And now, she was asking for his help. He couldn't refuse her.

He got up and walked out of his office and into Tank's. He closed the door behind him as Tank looked up from his computer screen. "Is the safe house on Alameda available?" Ranger asked.

"Yeah, it's still in our inventory," Tank replied, shoving back from his desk and stretching out his huge frame. It was late in the day, and Tank had been sitting for hours doing the quarterly reports. "Do we have a new client?"

Ranger took one of the chairs in front of Tank's desk and straddled it. "Yes, but it has to be kept under the radar. You and me only." Ranger tilted his head back and sighed. "And Stephanie."

"Stephanie?" Tank asked. "You're putting Stephanie in a safe house? Does she have another stalker?"

Ranger's mouth twitched at the thought and then shook his head. "The safe house isn't for her, but I want Stephanie to stay with the client, at least for part of each day; she will require special care."

"She? A woman, huh? What kinda care are we talking about?"

"She's injured and has bandages that will require daily changing," Ranger explained.

"Bobby could do that. That's in his wheelhouse."

"I want this case kept quiet. The fewer people that are involved, the better. And I think Grace will be more comfortable with a woman changing her dressings."

"Grace...?" Tank left the question hanging.

"Grace Galloway. She witnessed a murder, and the perp got a good look at her. Until he is captured, she needs to remain in hiding. She was uncomfortable with the protective custody offered by the local law enforcement, so she called me."

"She doesn't trust the Trenton PD?" Tank laughed.

"This didn't happen here. Grace lives in Georgia and she believes the local sheriff's office in her county has been compromised. They were protecting her but, somehow, someone found out where they'd stashed her and she was nearly killed. That's how she got injured."

Tank rubbed his jaw and loudly blew out a breath. "I don't think I'd be too comfortable either, if that happened to me. Well, we'll keep her safe. I'll see to that."

"I knew I could count on you. With the three of us taking eight-hour shifts, we can cover each day sufficiently. Steph'll take the day shift, you the evening, I'll do the graveyard shift. That way, we can keep RangeMan manned during the day. And Tank, this is personal. Grace is a ... friend of mine. We'll be doing it pro bono."

Tank's eyes widened slightly. "Okay. Under the radar all the way. I got it. Do you want me to contact Stephanie?"

"No. I think I should handle that myself. It may take some convincing to get Steph to agree to stay in a safe house all day. Even if she isn't the one under guard." Ranger stood and returned to his office. His next task was going to take some finesse.

Stephanie got to her phone on the second ring. "What now?" she groused.

"Babe?"

"Oh, sorry, Ranger. I didn't look at my caller ID. Vinnie has called me three times in the last hour to tell me how piss-poor I am at my job. He's got six clients right now that are FTA. I brought in two today, but he's ticked because I didn't make better progress on his list."

"Sounds like you could use some time away from the bonds office."

"Yeah, maybe." Stephanie took a moment to fantasize about a vacation from Vinnie. "Unfortunately, my meager bank account makes work a priority."

"I've got something that may help you do both. A job. At RangeMan."

"Thanks, Ranger. I appreciate the offer, but…" Stephanie hesitated while she tried to formulate the words. "I like the money and the perks at RangeMan, but spending my day in front of a computer doing security checks isn't exactly my forte."

Ranger laughed. "It is your forte, Babe. You're intuitive and detail-oriented and you do a great job with searches, but as it happens, I've got something else in mind. I need you to stay with a client, at a RangeMan safe house. The pay is better than doing searches. And it might be a lengthy assignment."

That sounded much better than chasing skips, but Stephanie knew Vinnie would never go for her absence.

"I'll send one of my men to work for Vinnie while you're working for me," Ranger said, proving undeniably he could read her mind. "This is a sensitive operation and I need you. Tank and I are the only ones I trust to care for this lady, other than you." Whoa, Steph thought, Ranger needs me? A warm glow settled in her stomach as Ranger continued. "She's been roughed up pretty good and she needs some daily first aid. Bandage changes, mainly, and I think a female touch would be a good thing. I'd like you to spend your days with her for the next few weeks."

Stephanie thought about working for RangeMan one on one with a client. It would be a steady paycheck and that would come in handy. As a matter of fact, it sounded like the answer to a prayer. She could get caught up on her rent and probably pay off her credit card.

"Babe?"

"I'm thinking," she told Ranger. "Who exactly would I be babysitting? You said a lady. The last time I babysat for you I had to chauffeur a snot-nosed little sheik around. I almost shot him!"

"Not this time, Stephanie. This is a potentially serious situation. A nice lady has been hurt and bad people are after her. We need to keep her safe. You'd be spending your days in the safe house. And you'd be undercover. People will just have to think you're working at RangeMan. You'll show up for work every morning, and Tank or I will take you to the safe house. No one can know."

Stephanie was intrigued. And curious. "A nice lady? Young, old, in the middle?" she asked.

"In the middle," Ranger said. "She's a good friend, and I want you to help me take care of her. Will you?"

"Yes, I will." The decision was spontaneous, and it would probably create problems with her personal life, but she'd have to deal with those problems as they came. Ranger didn't ask much from her, but she sensed what he was asking now was important. She wanted to help him. And she was curious. She'd never met any of Ranger's friends that weren't connected to RangeMan.

"What's her name?" she asked.

"Tomorrow. Be at RangeMan tomorrow. 0700 hours, and come dressed. You'll be briefed and then taken to the safe house."

"What will I tell Vinnie?"

"Don't tell him anything. Bring your skip papers tomorrow and I'll give them to whomever I send in your place. Any other questions?"

"Not a question, just a request. Send someone that will be nice to Lula, like maybe Cal. Lula has a crush on him."

She heard Ranger's chuckle as he disconnected. And then she went to her bedroom to see if she had enough black clothes in her closet. If not, she'd go shopping ... she could afford to do that with a steady paycheck.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN Thanks to everyone for your good wishes on our new venture, and for your great comments and reviews._

 **Chapter 2 - Grace Period**

Steph pulled into the RangeMan garage and looked at her watch. It was exactly seven o'clock. Fist clenched, she pumped her right arm once. _Yes!_ She was right on time. She grabbed the tote bag she'd packed last night and climbed out of the car. She had no idea what to expect, so she had packed everything from snack food to extra clothes.

On her way up the elevator, she remembered Ranger had said she would be briefed and then taken to the safe house today. He had _not_ said he would be the one doing the briefing or driving. Ah, crap! Did that mean she would be spending a lot of time with Tank on this job assignment? Tank intimidated her and he was always so focused on business. She was never sure if he liked her or not. Well, it was a good assignment with good pay, she reminded herself. It didn't matter if Tank liked her or not, she simply had to do her job and pick up her paycheck. A steady paycheck! And for the next several weeks, no Vinnie, no getting food or other crap thrown on her, no rude, crude skips to deal with. This was a ... wait for it ... Plum assignment. She giggled to herself at her little pun.

She stepped off the elevator and onto the noisy control room floor. Even at seven in the morning, the office was bustling with men, all dressed in black cargo pants and black t-shirts. She blended right in with them, wearing black skinny jeans and a women's cut black t-shirt. One man in particular looked up and grinned when he saw her. He was an imposing specimen: extra large, muscle-bound, no neck and with a flaming skull tattoo in the middle of his forehead. Cal came over and gently punched her in the shoulder.

"I hear you recommended me as your replacement as Vinnie's bond enforcer, while you do some ... uh... undercover work for ... uh ... Ranger." Cal said, stumbling over the last few words. "Thanks."

Steph had to tilt her head back to look up at him. She'd worked with Cal before and liked him. But she was surprised he was thanking her for his being assigned to work for Vinnie. "You don't mind chasing FTAs for Vinnie?" she inquired.

"Unh-unh," he answered with a shake of his head. "Tank said I get to keep any fees I earn for turning in skips. It's like getting a bonus for cracking skulls. Hell, I'd do that for free." He was grinning broadly and the skin on his forehead crinkled up, making his skull tattoo look like it was laughing.

"You know you'll be working with Lula, don't you?" Steph clarified. She noticed a pink flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

Cal cleared his throat several times before he spoke again. "I'm a professional. I can work with women." He was getting redder by the minute.

"Lula's not just any woman, Cal," she said. "Lula has her own unique way of handling situations. I'd suggest you take the lead whenever confronting an FTA, but, please, do it in a way that doesn't alienate her or make her feel ... unnecessary."

"I can handle Lula," he said, and then backpedaled. "I mean ... I won't _handle_ her." His cheeks were red again. "I won't actually _touch_ her; I would never step over that line. But ... I know how to deal with a strong woman like Lula." He was stumbling over his words and wouldn't look Steph in the eye. Steph knew from past experience with Cal that women scared the beejeezus out of him. And Lula could be one scary woman. She knew Lula would take advantage of Cal's softer side. Lula would have some juicy stories to tell after spending several weeks with this big, yet shy, bruiser of a Merry Man.

Cal pulled himself together and motioned to a young man standing by the bank of surveillance monitors. He was younger than most of Ranger's employees, but he wore the same uniform: black cargo pants and tight black t-shirt. He was clean shaven, had short dark hair and blue eyes. The young man nearly stumbled over his own booted feet in his eagerness to join them.

"Stephanie, this is Jake Jones. Jake, this is Stephanie Plum. This is the bounty hunter, excuse me, bond enforcement agent, that we are taking over for." Cal turned to Steph. "Jake is a new hire and Tank is having me train him, so he will be my back-up for the next few weeks."

Steph held out her hand. "Welcome to the team, Jake," she said.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Ms. Plum," he said, shaking her hand. "I've heard great things about you. I hope I do you proud as a bond enforcement agent." Jake's cheeks were getting redder by the second, as he continued to pump her hand up and down.

Steph grinned and gently extricated her hand from his tight grip. It wasn't often that she felt more experienced than one of Ranger's men, but Jake couldn't have been more than 21 years old.

"Please, call me Stephanie, or Steph. We're not formal here. RangeMan is an excellent company to work for. I can't say the same for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds, though, so let Cal deal with Vinnie and you just concentrate on learning the ropes."

"I will, Ms. P ... Stephanie," Jake stammered, staring at her.

"Cal!" a deep voice bellowed out. Tank was standing in the doorway of his office. All it took was a look and Cal and Jake both scurried back across the room to the row of cubicles the men used as offices. Then Tank turned that same look on Stephanie. She didn't scurry, but forced herself to leisurely saunter over to Tank, and then she slipped past him to sit in one of his uncomfortable guest chairs. Tank closed his office door and joined Steph at his desk, towering over her.

"You're late," he uttered. "That isn't tolerated here, not even for you."

Steph wanted to rise up out of the chair, angry that Tank accused her of being late, but he was standing so close to her, she couldn't move. She glared up at him. "I am _not_ late. I was in the garage at exactly seven." _So there_ , her look said.

"The garage doesn't count. Here," he pointed a meaty index finger at the floor, "here is what counts. You need to be in my office at the appointed time. I expect punctuality of all my employees, not just those with Y chromosomes." He glared back at her.

"Duly noted," Steph spit out. "Could we get on with the briefing?"

Tank walked around his desk and sat down. He continued to glare at her for several seconds before beginning. "We have a new client who needs protection. Ranger is picking her up now. He wants this kept quiet, even from the rest of RangeMan. Understood?"

Ranger had mentioned yesterday that this assignment was to be kept under wraps, but Steph assumed the other guys had an inkling of what was going on. After Cal's embarrassed comments about undercover work, Steph realized he knew nothing about what she would be doing. He'd acted like Ranger was setting her up in some love nest. Great! She'd be the topic of backroom discussions among the Merry Men, but if that's what it took to help Ranger, she'd put up with it. It's not as if it would be the first time she was the subject of salacious gossip. In response to Tank's question, or rather his command, she simply nodded.

Tank continued. "Her name is Grace Galloway. She's a businesswoman from Savannah, Georgia. She was the sole witness to a murder a few days ago and the local sheriff had her under protective custody. But something happened and her location and identity were leaked. We don't know if someone in the sheriff's office leaked it or not, but no one is to be trusted. What we do know is that an attempt was made on her life and she was shot ... in the abdomen." He stopped and cleared his throat while giving her an indecipherable look. "From what I understand her injuries aren't critical, but still require care and, of course, watched for any sign of worsening or infection. She doesn't require medical attention, but someone does need to change her wound dressings daily. That would be you."

"I can do that. I've had to change my own bandages from time to time," Steph replied. "Does she need any other special care?"

Tank shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of. I don't know how long she'll be with us, but until her attacker is caught, she needs our protection. You're carrying, aren't you?"

Steph nodded. Ranger had told her she was to be dressed, and she knew in Ranger lingo that meant having a loaded gun on her person. She hated guns, but knew they came with the job when guarding a client.

"I'll drive you to the safe house, but we'll pick up some basic groceries on the way. Also, Ella has provided some prepared dishes. No deliveries are allowed, so you'll need to do any subsequent shopping before or after your shift. Remember, the door doesn't get opened to anyone but Ranger or myself. And neither you nor Ms. Galloway can make any calls on your cell phones; turn them off and remove the batteries while you are at the safe house. I'll give you a burner phone that is only to be used to call Ranger or me, or, heaven forbid, 911."

"What do we do all day?" Steph complained. "Is there a TV, or magazines? What about internet access?"

"There's a television and a radio, and a MP3 player with a large music library. You'll have to bring your own magazines or books. And no internet access. We don't need any more leaks, and phones and computers can be hacked. I'll give you some petty cash so you can buy whatever ... um ... lady things Ms. Galloway might need. Any questions?"

Steph couldn't help herself from asking. She was insanely curious about this woman. "Ranger said this woman was a good friend. Do you know anything more about her?"

Tank shook his head. "No, but you'll have the rest of the day to find out for yourself. I'll drive you over to the safe house and drop you off. We should have just enough time for a quick stop at the supermarket before Ranger arrives with Ms. Galloway. I'll relieve you at four this afternoon, and Ranger will drive you back here. That will be the routine each day." He stood and walked to the door. "You coming?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - Unexpected Grace**

Grace Wiersma was a lifelong friend of Edna Mazur. From the moment Stephanie had heard the name Grace, she imagined the client as Grandma's friend. She remembered Ranger saying Grace was middle-aged, so probably she should imagine her more along the lines of her own mother, an attractive woman who shopped the sales at J.C. Penney for last season's values on Alfred Dunner double-knit pantsuits. Instead, Steph couldn't help but see her more as the woman who was her grandma's partner in crime. A sweet woman who carried a big handbag that she surreptitiously filled with her favorite funeral home cookies. A woman whose white hair ran across her head in tight sausage rolls evenly divided by thin lines of pink scalp. And a woman who had at one time dated septuagenarian Eddie DeChooch. If Ranger's Grace was even half the woman she imagined, there would be some fun conversations in the days to come.

This job was going to be better than she had first thought. Tank had only stayed long enough to get the groceries inside and show her the alarm codes, so she was left alone to organize the pantry, and get the feel of the place. As with all RangeMan safe houses, the bungalow was perfectly average on the outside. The lawn was well maintained, but not too well maintained. The roof was new-ish, and the house and window shutters had a fresh coat of paint. It was a nice house that blended with the other houses on the block, but not one that you'd look at twice. Perfectly inconspicuous. Perfectly safe.

The inside of the house was a different story. The finishes were upscale. Granite counter tops, professional grade appliances and a huge island made the kitchen a functional and inviting space. There were two bedrooms, each with an en suite bathroom. The house had the same feel as Ranger's apartment, with a little more color. The master bedroom's king-sized bed looked inviting with a purple and sage print comforter. Matching draperies were pulled across the window, along with metal blinds, blocking out the daylight, a consideration of safety, Stephanie figured. Classy but not something Stephanie could imagine in Ranger's apartment.

The other bedroom looked more familiar to her with earth-toned bedding covering the smaller queen-sized bed. This would be where the RangeMan operative slept ... well, in this case, Ranger ... at least she thought he would sleep. The house was completely alarmed.

No one was getting in without those inside being aware. The control panel on the kitchen wall had more buttons than the control panel that launched the space shuttle! This was a safe house, incorporating all the newest technology, including cameras located outside each door. Ranger didn't do things halfway. Her mind flipped to the last time they'd made love. She blushed and smiled as she remembered. No, Ranger didn't do things halfway.

She heard the garage door rise and hurried from the bedroom back to the kitchen. At first, her plan was to wait until Ranger and Grace entered the room, but her curiosity got the best of her. She walked quickly to the door, switched off the alarm and stepped out onto the first of three steps leading down into the garage. Ranger paused on his way around the front of the Cayenne. He nodded almost imperceptibly and then continued to the passenger side where he opened the door and reached inside to help his client out.

Stephanie's mouth dropped open, but she snapped it shut quickly, and made an effort to contain her surprise. She remembered back to when she'd asked Ranger if the woman was young or old and Ranger had said middle. He'd been correct. This woman was somewhere in the middle between young and old, and the middle was apparently a pretty big place. She was far from her grandmother's generation, and looked to be even younger than Steph's mother.

She was walking carefully, in a way Stephanie had seen before. How serious were her injuries, Stephanie wondered? Grace was wearing a soft pink tunic and matching pants, and on her feet were white leather ballerina flats with a unique blue sole that Stephanie recognized immediately. Lula had been saving up for shoes like that for three months. Maybe this wasn't Grace after all. This woman was young, at least way younger than Stephanie had been prepared for. Her clothes quietly shouted elegance, and wealth. But of course, she was Grace.

Ranger had a hand at the small of Grace's back as he guided her around the car. They stopped in front of Stephanie who stood above them on the step. She's not as young as I first thought. Stephanie's eyes widened in horror, but since neither Ranger nor Grace gave any indication they had heard anything, she relaxed. Thankfully, this was one time she hadn't thought out loud.

Stephanie tried to adopt a poker face while she took an up close inventory. Large forest green eyes rimmed by thick black lashes drew Stephanie's attention first. There were a few little lines fanning out from the edges. Laugh lines, her mother called them. Grace's skin was flawless, and wrinkle free, but maybe not as taut as Stephanie had first thought. Dark brown hair shot with a few strands of silver fell in a smooth sheath past her shoulders. The signs of aging didn't detract from her beauty, but somehow added to it. Stephanie knew, instinctively. This woman was very comfortable in her own skin.

"Grace," Ranger said, breaking Steph's stealth inspection. "This is Stephanie Plum, my associate."

"Stephanie, this is Grace Galloway, an old and dear friend."

"Pleased to meet you," Stephanie said and held out her hand to Grace. "Oh, I'm sorry." The hand she was attempting to shake was wrapped in a thin gauze bandage. Tank hadn't said why Grace would need help re-bandaging wounds. Now she could see why.

"I was shot in the hand and the abdomen," Grace said, her voice a husky Southern contralto. "I'm afraid, I'm not very self-sufficient at the moment."

"No problem," Stephanie said. "I can help. I've had a little experience and some training from Bobby—the resident RangeMan medic."

"Stephanie will be with you during the day, Grace. She's very capable. I'd trust her with my life, and in fact, I have several times."

"I'm sure I'm in good hands, Carlos," Grace said. "It's why I called. I knew you would keep me safe."

Stephanie's eyes widened when she heard Grace call Ranger, Carlos, but realized if Grace was an old friend she might have known Ranger before he became Ranger. Maybe she had babysat Ranger when he was a little boy. Maybe she had changed his diapers, Steph giggled internally. Yep, this was going to be a good job. It would take a while to get to the comfort level where she could question Grace about Ranger, but she was betting they'd get there.

"I'm going to get our guest settled in," Ranger said to Stephanie as he turned the full two hundred watts on Grace. "It's been a long trip and she's still recovering."

Stephanie turned and re-entered the kitchen. She stepped back so Ranger and Grace could enter. His hand never left the small of Grace's back, she noted. He guided her quickly through the kitchen, down the hall and into the master suite, and he closed the door behind them.

Twenty minutes later, Ranger came back into the kitchen. Twenty minutes was a long time to settle in. Ranger frowned. Uh-oh. This time she had spoken out loud.

"Grace came without luggage or any of her personal items. It was imperative that she get here as quickly as possible, partly because she's still very weak and partly to avoid discovery by whomever it is that's after her. Ella provided clothes and toiletries. I wanted to make sure everything was acceptable to her. She's sleeping and probably will stay quiet the rest of the day."

"Okay, I've got this," Stephanie said. "Ranger, thanks for saying that—about me being competent."

"Only the truth, Babe." He came close to her and lifted her chin with his fingers. The kiss was quick and light, his lips barely brushing hers. Her heartbeat skittered up a notch and his smile told her he was aware of it.

"Where's your gun," he said, his breath ruffling the wisps of hair around her face.

"In my bag."

"Get it out." He was still close, but he was in boss mode. "You don't need to wear it, and I don't think you'll have to use it. But if you do I don't want you shooting through your purse again."

He was teasing her and she knew it. "Smart ass," she groused.

"Every entrance to this house is monitored by RangeMan electronically, including video, but because of the need for secrecy, the video feed will stay on a disc here. The monitoring team doesn't have any idea who is inside and it will stay that way, but they will know if there's been a breach. In that event regular procedure takes over. What happens inside this house stays inside this house. That's the safest and easiest way to prevent leaks. Don't go outside for any reason. If you have a need, call me or Tank on the burner phone. I'll be back to get you at four."

"Okay," she told him.

"Do you have plans for dinner?" he asked.

"No."

"You do now."

Stephanie stood, wondering what exactly he had in mind as he let himself out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - Amazing Grace**

The day lasted forever. Steph wasn't used to being home all day, and soap operas and talk shows only interested her for a short while. She'd read and reread the current People magazine several times and couldn't get into the murder mystery novel she'd bought at the supermarket. By late afternoon, she was so bored she even started exercising, but after fifty sit-ups, she gave up. Well, it was more like five, but who's counting?

Grace made an appearance around three-thirty. She'd showered and changed into one of the outfits Ella had left for her. The beige linen slacks and burgundy-colored silk top she wore carried the DKNY label and fit her perfectly. Ella was a wonder at picking out clothes for other people. Steph could attest to that.

"Whoever this Ella is, she is a marvel," Grace proclaimed, pronouncing the word marvel with the first syllable drawn out and the "r" dropped entirely. She smoothed the silk top over her hips and winced.

"Are you in pain?" Steph asked. "There's some ibuprofen or acetaminophen, if you want it."

"Thank you, Stephanie, but I would prefer not to start down that road," Grace replied. "The pain isn't too bad now, just when I move." A wry smile followed her words. "You have been here all day. Are you going to be my bodyguard tonight, too?"

"No, you'll be guarded in shifts. One of Ranger's men will be here to relieve me soon. He goes by the nickname Tank. He ... he is a good man, though not very talkative." Steph dipped her head, not knowing how to explain Tank to this obviously gentle and refined woman. She looked back up and smiled. "How 'bout I change your bandages?"

"That would be nice. I think I was able to keep the water off the dressings when I showered, but they need to be changed every day. Now is as good a time as any."

"There's a large first aid kit under the kitchen sink. Tank told me it's been freshly stocked with your injuries in mind." Steph left the living room to retrieve the medical supplies. She pulled out gauze pads, adhesive tape, saline wound wash and antibiotic ointment from the kit and returned to the living room. Grace was sitting on the couch.

Steph sat down next to her and put the supplies on the coffee table. Grimacing, Grace unbuttoned her blouse and slipped her right arm out of it, revealing a large white rectangle of gauze taped against her right side and extending toward her back. Steph could see that it would be difficult for Grace to reapply a new bandage in that location by herself as it reached around to her back. Plus, she had a second gunshot wound in her dominant right hand. Steph gently removed the tape first and then pulled away the gauze. She involuntarily sucked in a breath. There was a gaping bloody hole along Grace's front side just under her ribs and a second hole toward her back. It looked like the bullet had just skimmed her right side, in what Bobby had told her was called a through-and-through. The wounds looked quite painful, but the surrounding skin wasn't red or swollen; it didn't look infected.

"Are you sure you don't want any painkillers?" Steph asked again. "When I was shot a few years ago, I needed some heavy duty stuff to get through it."

"You were shot? Was it because of a situation like mine?"

"Not exactly," Steph answered. "I was trying to prove the innocence of a man who was accused of murder, but there was another man who didn't want me digging around and discovering his crimes. He tried to kill me, shots were fired, and both of us were hit. My shot found its mark, and it was just simple luck that his shot only wounded my pride and ... my behind. I've been called a pain in the ass many times, but that was the first time I really had a pain in my ass. Sitting down was impossible for weeks."

Grace chuckled. "Oh my! Stephanie, you have such a way with words. It sounds like you have a dangerous job, but then if you work with Carlos, you must be very good at it."

Steph blushed, not used to being praised for her dubious actions as a bounty hunter. "It has its moments," she admitted and then rapidly changed the subject, not wanting to talk about the not so successful cases she had worked on. "How long have you known Ranger ... um ... Carlos?" She sprayed a little of the saline solution on a square of gauze and carefully dabbed the dried blood from Grace's front wound.

Grace gave one small jerk when Steph first started the cleaning process, but then settled herself and didn't move again until Steph was finished taping on the new bandages. "Carlos..." Grace began, a smile slowly pulling the corners of her mouth up. "Carlos and I have known each other for about 15 years. The last few years, we have not seen much of each other, but ... he will always have a special place in my heart. When this happened," she lifted her gauze-covered right hand, "I thought of Carlos immediately. I trust him with my life, as, obviously, you do."

Steph nodded, thinking of all the times Ranger had come to her rescue; of how many times she would have died if it hadn't been for Ranger. "He has a knack for showing up at just the right moment and saving the day," Steph admitted. "Though he can be a bit overprotective at times."

"I would say that is a very nice quality to have in a man. I have missed that in my life." Grace leaned back against the couch and studied the younger woman before her. "I would wager that you are a very independent woman. I like that," Grace said. "I live and work in a man's world too, and have had to harden my exterior just to survive. The perception of Southern women is one of gentleness, refinement, and submission to the men in their lives. At least that is what Southern gentlemen want their women to be like. The reality is far, far from that." Grace smiled slyly. "To succeed in business as long as I have, I have had to learn to project some of those softer qualities, but they are like wearing a shawl, one that can be quickly shrugged off when the need arises."

Steph grinned back at her. "I'd like to be there when you shrug off that shawl. Us Jersey girls are used to dealing with men without any kind of shawl, soft or not, but I wouldn't mind learning the Southern way of asserting myself."

"My dear," Grace drawled, laying her hand over Steph's, "I would like to see how you Jersey women handle yourselves. I might learn a thing or two myself." They both grinned.

"What kind of business are you in?" Steph asked.

"I run a gentleman's club in Savannah," Grace replied.

"Oh, I ..." Steph stammered. "That must be ... interesting."

Grace threw back her head and roared, her laughter deep and throaty. "The look on your face is priceless, Stephanie. You must be imagining some tawdry dive with cheap hooch and even cheaper hoochie-coochies."

"No! No," Steph refuted, trying to hide her shock. "It's just that a gentlemen's club in Jersey is, well ... yeah," she grinned, "... it's really just a front for shady dealings and shadier assignations."

"Well, I can't say there is no under the table business that goes on in the club," Grace admitted, "but it is primarily a place for fine ... and wealthy gentlemen to conduct business, and relax and socialize with other gentlemen in a quiet and pleasant environment. We do have a Ladies Night one evening a month, so that the wives and girlfriends can see that the club is a proper and fitting establishment for their men to spend time in. There are no strippers or, how shall I put it ... _hostesses_ to entertain the men. I run a respectable establishment, carrying on the tradition my daddy started."

"Your father started the club?"

"Yes, when Daddy got back from the War, that was World War II, he bought an old rundown antebellum plantation and renovated it. My mother was the decorator; that's how they met. He had experienced similar social clubs in Europe when he served in the military, and was determined to open up such a place in Savannah. He served only the finest whiskeys and cigars from all over the world, including Savannah's own brand of cigars. After I graduated from college, I worked as an accountant, and my daddy was my first client. I became quite familiar with the business and how it was run." Grace pursed her lips and continued. "When my daddy passed away, I took over the club and have been running it ever since. The club has the highest ratings ever from the Better Business Bureau, and we have been ranked as the best bar in Savannah three years running. And I so enjoy the surprised expressions on men's faces when they realize I run their favorite gentlemen's club, that excludes women from membership."

"Women can't join?" Steph asked.

"The South still lives in the 19th century. I am surprised that I have not received a membership application yet from any of the younger businesswomen in Savannah. I look forward to that day. I already have my speech prepared for the all-male membership committee. It will be a battle I can sink my teeth into."

"You're amazing, Grace," Steph exclaimed. "You're my new hero, replacing Wonder Woman."

Their combined laughter stopped when they heard the garage door lifting. Steph grabbed the leftover medical supplies and hurried out to the kitchen. Grace followed more leisurely.

Ranger entered the room with Tank close on his heels. Tank had to turn sideways and duck as he stepped through the kitchen door. Steph grinned to herself when she saw Grace's eyes widen.

Ranger crossed the room and kissed Grace on the cheek. "You look rested and well, Grace. I trust you had a better day than the last few have been."

Grace smiled up at him and replied, "Yes, thanks to you. I feel very safe here with Stephanie to guard me." She stepped forward, her hand outstretched to Tank. "And you must be Tank. Stephanie speaks highly of you."

Tank darted his eyes to Steph, his brows wrinkled in puzzlement. Then he extended his hand to Grace, his huge black paw engulfing her smaller porcelain white one. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am. I hope you will feel as safe here with me as you do with Ms. Plum."

Ranger added, "Tank is my second-in-command at RangeMan. He'll be here in the evening until I come back at midnight. You will have one of us with you at all times."

Grace smiled. "I could not be in better hands. Thank you, all of you, for agreeing to protect me. I never felt safe with Deputy Dawg." She grimaced. "Forgive my unflattering words for the Chadwick County Sheriff's Office, but after what happened while I was under their protection, I think I am entitled." She cradled her right hand in her left and then moved toward the refrigerator. "I think it is time to start supper. Let's see what we have in here." She opened the frig door.

"Stephanie and I will be leaving now," Ranger said. "It'll just be you and Tank for the evening. There should be enough food here for several meals. If you want anything specific, just make out a list and one of us will get it for you. Goodnight, Grace." He kissed her cheek again and, with his hand on Steph's back, guided Steph toward the kitchen door.

"Goodnight, Grace," Steph said, grabbing her tote from the kitchen counter. "I enjoyed our talk and I'll see you in the morning." She gave one last look at Grace and Tank, and then grinning, joined Ranger in the garage.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: We are enjoying all your comments, thank you for taking the time to write them. Another five days full of Grace, then a Graceless weekend._

 **Chapter 5 - A Social Grace**

She was quiet. He imagined she was rethinking her day with Grace. Grace was the soul of discretion, so he hadn't worried that Stephanie would be regaled with exploits of his past. If she had, it wouldn't matter so much, probably. It _was_ a long time ago. Fifteen years ago …

"Are we going back to RangeMan?" Steph asked as she reached into her tote bag and found her phone. She'd turned it off when she'd arrived at the safe house that morning, and now she turned it back on. There were several messages, but she ignored them.

Stephanie's question brought Ranger abruptly back into the present. He thought briefly of her current piece of junk, parked in the corner of the garage, dripping oil on the pristine concrete floor.

"Yes."

"My, you're in a talkative mood today."

Her sarcasm amused him, so he reluctantly made an effort. Small talk was painful to him, even with Stephanie. "Sorry, Babe. I've got a lot on my mind right now."

"You always do, Ranger. Is it Grace, or do you have something big going on?"

"RangeMan always has something big going on. That's our business."

Steph rolled her eyes. "I don't usually see you brood," she said. "I just wondered if something wasn't going well."

"I'm not brooding," he said. "But I do have a lot on my mind. And yes, I am taking you back to RangeMan. Your car is in my garage."

"I know that," Stephanie replied. "But you said we were going to have dinner."

"It's a little early for that. I thought you might want to go home and slip into something …" He let his eyes slide over her black slacks and form-fitting black tee. "… a little less comfortable." His mouth twitched as he watched her bristle from the corner of his eye.

"Where are you taking me, then?"

"To the place with the best food in town. My apartment. Ella will cook for us."

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. His smile broke through at her reaction. He was playing with her, and he enjoyed watching the spike in her temper.

"So," she began, her words spoken slowly and deliberately. "You want me to go to my apartment and make myself more—more appropriately dressed for dinner with you, in your apartment?" She stared at him, her eyes shooting daggers.

"I don't care at all, Babe. You're the one who places importance on freshly shaved legs. I just wanted you to be comfortable." His peripheral vision was good, and he broke out into the full two hundred watt smile as he saw her blush.

"Are you saying you want to ... that we would ... " She stumbled over her words, and he found it endearing that she couldn't verbalize what they both knew they were talking about.

"Babe, I always want to ..." He was prepared for the sturdy punch she gave his arm. He pulled into the garage and slid the Porsche into the slot next to the rust pile she currently owned. His hand left the wheel and went of its own volition to caress the underside of her jaw. "I have some work to finish up and I won't be available for dinner until seven. I thought you might have things you need to do."

Her phone rang, and he watched as she rummaged through her bag to find it. He listened to the one-sided conversation.

"Hey … I was working. My phone was turned off. What's going on? ... Oh no! ... Is he okay? ... um, sure. I'll be right there. No, it's not a problem. I'm glad he'll be okay ... yeah. See you soon." She turned to Ranger. "That was Joe. Bob was hit by a car! He's home from the vet and he's gonna be okay, but Joe asked me if I could come over. I'm going to have to take a raincheck on … dinner."

"I thought you and the cop were 'off'."

"We are," she said. "I'm not seeing him in that way. It's just that Bob is hurt, and Joe needs someone to stay with him tonight."

Ranger wasn't sure if _him_ meant Joe or Bob, but it really didn't matter. It meant he was going to have a solitary meal ... and bed, tonight. Stephanie opened the door and started to get out. Ranger hooked a finger in her collar to stop her. "Just remember, Babe. You need to be here tomorrow morning. Tank will take you to the safe house at seven. No excuses, and you don't say anything about this job … to anyone."

His words angered her, he could tell, and maybe hurt her, but he didn't give that much consideration. He was feeling a little hurt himself to be thrown over for the cop's dog.

...

He saw her looking at him from under lowered lashes. He was used to being stared at. His size repulsed some people, attracted others, and intimidated many, but they all stared. There had been just a hint of a smile, which made him think she enjoyed looking at him.

"Tank," Grace said. "That is an interesting name, but I am certain it was not the one your mama gave you. What is your given name?"

He hesitated and then thought, _What the hell._ "Pierre."

"How lovely!"

He'd listened carefully. There was no sarcasm. He'd taken enough guff over his name that nothing this southern belle could say would bruise him, but still he'd stiffened, expecting at least a polite chuckle. He relaxed when he saw that she'd meant it.

"Pierre," she said, "this dinner is lovely. Did Stephanie prepare it while I was napping?"

Tank snorted. "No. Stephanie is capable in many areas. The kitchen is not one of them. This is Ella's work."

"Ella? Stephanie mentioned her earlier. Is she a RangeMan operative?"

"No," he said as he forked up the last bite of the savory casserole. "Ella cooks, cleans, shops, and in general makes Ranger's life run smoothly. She takes care of him."

"Ah, I used to take care of Carlos, a long time ago."

"How long ago?" Tank asked, wondering what exactly she meant. He pushed back from the table and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He was settling in for some after dinner conversation. Grace, or more truthfully, Ranger's attitude toward Grace, intrigued him. It was time to get to know her better.

"We met fifteen years ago," she said. "He was just beginning his military career."

He thought back. Fifteen years would have been Savannah, Hunter Army Airfield. It made sense. The musical lilt of her southern drawl was familiar to him. They called it a low country accent, heard mostly among the genteel in Savannah. Looking at Grace he thought she epitomized the genteel, velvet-over-steel southern woman.

He'd known Ranger back then, but mostly by reputation. They hadn't become closer than blood until their time at Benning, and even then Ranger had kept secrets. Was Grace one of those secrets? Apparently so.

"So you took care of him?" Tank prompted. "Did you cook and clean for him like Ella does?"

Grace smiled. "Like Stephanie, my primary talents are not culinary. Carlos was young, intelligent and on an upward path. I tried to be of use in whatever way he needed."

That was clear as mud, Tank decided, but he had a good idea of just how she'd helped Ranger. He stared at Grace and she returned his gaze. He noted the shadows under her eyes and decided not to push her too much. It probably wouldn't work in any case. She seemed to be very much in control. It probably amused her to drop little kernels of information to see if he could collect them and put together a story. Her statement about caring for Ranger was a big clue. Maybe bigger than she knew, because she had no idea Tank had been part of Ranger's life back then.

"You look tired, Grace. Why don't you go on into the living room and I'll load the dishwasher. Then I'll come in and we can continue this game of Jeopardy."

Grace raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Jeopardy?"

"Yeah, you know—the game show. I think you are a lady with answers, but I'm going to have to figure out just what questions to ask."

Grace laughed. "I like you, Pierre. You are going to make my evenings very entertaining." She stood from the table and winked at him as she left the kitchen.

Holy Shit! A classy broad from Savannah, old enough to be his mother, was flirting with him. Tank's grin was wide as he realized he was enjoying it.


	6. Chapter 6

AN We'd like to take this opportunity to thank our guest reviewers. We appreciate and welcome your comments.

 **Chapter 6 - Learning about Grace**

Steph spooned another bite of Ella's ham and spinach quiche into her mouth and moaned in ecstasy. "I think the best perk of working for RangeMan is Ella. I've never eaten anything she's made that I haven't loved."

"Last night's meal was delicious and this quiche is wonderful too, so I would have to agree," Grace said. "And her choice of clothing for me has also been inspired." She looked down at the orange and red print blouse she was wearing. "I would never have considered this color combination on me, but I really like it. It brings out the auburn highlights in my hair. And the fit is perfect."

Steph nodded. "Ella has purchased most of my black RangeMan clothes and I can't fault her on the design or fit, but where she shines is when she picks out the clothes I wear for distractions. She seems able to select very sexy yet tasteful outfits for me. Knowing I look good, and feel good, in my clothes seems to help me do my job better. Does that sound hokey?"

"No, not at all. It makes perfect sense. But what is a distraction?" Grace asked.

Steph grinned. "A distraction is used by a bounty hunter when the fugitive they are tracking can't be found at his home or place of work. So they stake out his favorite haunts such as a bar. You don't want the public to get hurt, so you need to get him outside by using a distraction." Stephanie struck a seductive pose. "That's where someone like me comes in. I go into the bar wearing a sexy outfit and do whatever it takes to convince the guy to go outside with me." She smiled sexily and batted her eyelashes. "Then, I step aside so Ranger or one of his men can quickly and safely take the guy down."

Grace chuckled. "How clever! I think I would have enjoyed being a distraction in my younger days."

"Something tells me you were," Steph joked, and they both grinned. "You could still be a distraction now. I hope I look as good as you do when I'm your age. You never got married?" she asked.

Grace immediately quieted and it took her a moment to respond. "No, I was engaged once, but he was killed before we could marry. My fiancé was a Marine stationed in the Middle East. He wasn't even killed in a real war," she bitterly spat out, "they called it a multinational force. Lebanon was in the middle of a civil war and we were there on a peacekeeping mission." Her voice lowered until it was almost a whisper. "I couldn't believe it when they told me he was dead. He was there to keep the peace, not be killed. He was everything to me, he was the love of my life..." her voice trailed off and she seemed a million miles away.

"I'm sorry, Grace," Steph said. "I didn't know."

Grace roused herself and leaned over, placing her hand over Steph's. "Well, of course you didn't, dear. It's fine. It was a long, long time ago. And since then, I have lived a full life, an exceedingly lively life, if you know what I mean. I _do_ like men, and what excitement they can bring to a woman's life." A slow smile stretched her face and there was a twinkle in her eyes. "And you, you are at a wonderful time in your life, able to enjoy all that life ... and men ... have to offer. You are so attractive, my dear. You must have men tripping over themselves to gain your time and attention, and your other obvious attributes." Another sly smile appeared.

Steph blushed. "Um, not so much, not really."

"I do not believe that, Stephanie. Surely, you have had many suitors?"

Steph tilted her head and sighed. "Well, I did have a disastrous marriage in my early 20s. I don't want to repeat that." She glanced over at Grace and grinned briefly. "I have had two pretty wonderful guys interested in me at the same time, but right now, it's slim pickings. Lately, I've been concentrating on my job."

"Your job sounds fascinating. I would love to watch you and Carlos work a distraction together."

"Speaking of ... Carlos," Steph began. "How did the two of you meet?" She'd been waiting patiently for a good segue to ask her question.

With a slow smile, Grace said, "Carlos came into the club one night as a guest of his commander. He was new to Savannah, having just finished his training as an Army Ranger." Her eyes lifted up a bit, a dreamy expression on her face. "He was so young and intense, dark and brooding, and so unlike any man I had ever known. Carlos definitely stood out, especially in Savannah."

"Yeah, Ranger stands out wherever he is," Steph agreed. Grace's words, and the faraway look in her eyes, tweaked something unsettling in Steph.

"We became friends, good friends. Even after he was transferred to Fort Benning, he would drive across Georgia to visit. He never talked about his deployments overseas, but I know they took a toll on him. His visits to Savannah were his way of easing back into a normal life, decompressing after the stress of his dangerous missions. I was glad I could be there for him. And now, he is here for me." She absentmindedly rubbed her bandaged hand.

"You also have Tank and me," Steph said. "We're here for you, too."

"I am a lucky woman," Grace replied. "If you do not mind, I am a little tired. I think I will go lie down for a while. Will you be all right out here by yourself?"

"Of course. You don't have to entertain me, Grace. I am here to make sure you are safe and comfortable. Have a nice nap."

Steph spent the rest of the day flipping through television channels and then flipping through the magazines she'd brought. She even tried another round of sit-ups, but only made it through six before she gave up.

When Ranger and Tank arrived at four, Grace was in the bathroom. Stephanie greeted the men in the kitchen.

"You're right on time. Tank, Grace's bandages are changed, and I just put Ella's meatloaf in the oven. It should be ready in about 45 minutes. There are veggies to cut up for a salad, and potatoes to peel and boil for mashed potatoes. And I only ate one piece of the peach pie Ella made, so there's plenty left for you for dessert." She picked up her handbag and looked at Ranger. "Are you ready to drive me home?"

Ranger shook his head. "I'd like to talk to Grace before I go. I received a call from the law firm RangeMan uses in Atlanta. They had talked to the Chadwick County Sheriff's Office on behalf of Grace. The Sheriff nearly accused the lawyer of kidnapping Grace and demanded that she return, citing the need for a second deposition from her. The lawyer told him she would provide one, but not in person. There is definitely something off-kilter about that sheriff's office. Just to be on the safe side, we'll be doing SDRs coming and going from the safe house from now on out."

"What's an SDR?" Steph asked.

"Surveillance Detection Run. It's a travel route planned out in advance and is designed to make it difficult for anyone to follow you unnoticed. You often double back on your route to come in behind someone following you. I want to know if anyone is here in Jersey looking for Grace and if so, neutralize them."

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Steph said. "Someone could really come here to the safe house and try to kill her."

"Always a possibility, Babe. That's why I want you armed and alert at all times. Even when you are away from here." He gave her a studied stare. "Even when you are with Morelli. How's the dog?"

"Bob is kind of out of it right now. The drugs, you know," Steph replied. "But the vet said nothing was broken and he should be back to his normal goofy self in a few weeks, eating everything in sight." Steph hesitated a moment and then asked, "What about Joe? Shouldn't we bring him in on this?"

"NO!" Ranger nearly shouted. "Morelli is a commissioned law enforcement officer. He has to follow policy and procedure. If the Chadwick County Sheriff's Office calls him, either he or someone in the Trenton PD could say something to them that could lead to Grace, and that could be leaked to the murderer. Right now, only the three of us, and our lawyer in Atlanta, know that Grace is in New Jersey under RangeMan protection. It has to stay that way."

Grace came into the kitchen and immediately went to Ranger, where he leaned over and she kissed his cheek. The gesture seemed so natural to the two of them; to Steph it was irksome, not that she was jealous, of course. But it was Grace's next action that left Steph dumbstruck. Grace walked over to Tank and stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, too. Steph could swear that Tank blushed.

"Grace, we need to talk," Ranger said and then he led her to the master bedroom and shut the door.

Steph stared after them until Tank called to her. "Looks like you'll be here for a while. Help me peel the potatoes."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - Coup de Gráce**

Ranger exited the bedroom and entered the kitchen, and immediately bit back a smile. The sight of his number two man standing next to Stephanie Plum in front of the stove was more than slightly amusing. He walked over to them, wrapped his fingers around Stephanie's upper arm and pulled.

"C'mon, Babe."

"I can't go yet, Ranger," she said. "Tank and I are trying to decide if the potatoes are done."

Ranger pulled open a drawer, scowled, closed it and tried another. He took a fork from the cutlery tray and turned to the bubbling pot on the stovetop. He thrust the fork into one of the potatoes, lifted it from the water and grunted with satisfaction as it slipped from the fork and plopped back into the boiling water.

"They're done," he said. He wrapped his fingers around Stephanie's arm again and tugged. "Let's go." She acquiesced, apparently impressed by his knowledge of potatoes, and went toward the door with him.

When they were a block out, Ranger made an unsignaled right turn onto a potholed side street. He kept the speed steady and navigated a path between the mini-craters. After a couple of blocks, he made another unsignaled right turn.

"What are you doing, Ranger?" Stephanie asked. "It seemed like you were in a hurry to get gone and now you're …oh! SDR?"

Ranger's lips twitched. "Yeah, SDR. I don't think anyone knows where Grace is or that she's under RangeMan protection, but it's our job to make sure it stays that way."

"Does an SDR include a trip through Cluck-In-A-Bucket?"

"No."

"Oh, please! I'm starving. Ever since the meatloaf went into the oven, I've been thinking nonstop about dinner."

"Sorry, Babe, no can do. I've got work to do this evening. I need to get back to RangeMan ASAP. Do you want me to drop you off at RangeMan or at the cop's?"

"RangeMan. I told you, I'm not seeing Joe anymore."

"You saw him last night."

"I didn't see him like that. Last night was for Bob."

That was welcome news to Ranger although he didn't know why. He and Stephanie weren't in any kind of relationship. Other than occasionally, when the phase of the moon was right … He shifted in his seat to ease the sudden tightness.

When he pulled into the RangeMan parking garage, he released his seat belt and turned toward her. "We're clear here. No one followed us home. Tomorrow morning, when you come back here, take a straightforward path. As far as the world is concerned you're working here, so don't do anything to make people think otherwise." He reached out and let his hand stroke her shoulder. "What did you say to Morelli?"

She was defensive immediately, which was worrisome. "Nothing," she said. "You told me not to tell anyone, and I haven't, other than to say I was working for you, at RangeMan."

"Sorry, Babe," he apologized. "I trust you, or you wouldn't be on this job." He blew out a breath and moved quickly and without thought. His hand cupped her head and pulled her toward him. His mouth covered hers, and he kissed her long and hard. When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open and then she looked downward.

"I'm sorry, too, if I seemed angry," she said, her voice tremulous. "It's just that when I told Joe I was working at RangeMan for a while he called me a fool. He said I couldn't make a living being a bounty hunter so I had to take charity from you. I wanted to punch him, but I didn't, and I didn't tell him about Grace either!"

His hand reached out again, but this time he tilted her chin up so that their gazes met. "There is no price between us, Babe. If you need help and I give it to you, it's not charity. And now, you're helping me. The _charity_ is going the other way this time."

She smiled at him. "There's no price, Ranger." She opened the door and he watched as she made her way to her car. When she pulled out of the garage, he got out of the vehicle, shaking his head in disbelief as he walked over to the stairwell. He couldn't believe he'd let her just go home. He would have liked nothing more than to spend the evening with her, but he'd been mostly truthful when he said he needed to get back to the office ASAP. The complete truth was, he was exhausted. He didn't sleep when he was at the safe house, and if that was to continue, he needed to get a couple of hours before his next shift started. There was a time when the opportunity for sex always trumped sleep. He thought briefly about putting another operative on the safe house, but his first choice would be Cal, and Cal was otherwise occupied, and RangeMan was extra busy right now. If the situation resolved itself soon, it wouldn't be a problem, but a lengthy stay for Grace would necessitate changes.

...

Ranger keyed in the code, opened the door of the safe house and walked through to the living room. To say the scene was interesting would be an understatement. He'd done enough yoga in his time to recognize the downward-facing dog pose, but he wasn't prepared to see Tank's cargo-clad ass pointing at him from across the room. Grace was standing close to him, her hand underneath Tank's abdomen, gently encouraging more extension … at least that's what Ranger thought he was seeing.

Grace turned and smiled at him, but Tank held his pose. Such was the influence of Grace, the teacher. She patted Tank on the ass and he released, straightened, turned to Ranger and gave him the, "You'll never mention this if you want to live" look.

"Good evening, Carlos," Grace said. "I was just helping Pierre with his flexibility."

"I didn't know _Pierre_ had problems with flexibility," Ranger goaded, getting another dirty look from Tank.

"Everyone can use improvement," Grace said. "This injury has derailed my workouts significantly, but thanks to Stephanie, I am going to start working out on a small scale. I think it will help time pass while I am here."

"Grace was just showing me some yoga moves," Tank said. "She said you used to do yoga." He allowed himself a grin at the thought.

"I know exactly what Grace was doing," Ranger said. Tank didn't respond to Ranger's statement. Instead he turned and bent so Grace could reach his cheek with her goodbye kiss. Ranger realized with a start he had been doing the same thing when he came and went. Bending down to Grace for her kiss. Old habits died hard.

After Tank left, Ranger went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. When he walked back into the living room, Grace was doing some mild stretching, and he realized with a start, exactly what she'd meant when she'd said, "Thanks to Stephanie." She was wearing a pair of yoga pants he recognized. The grey yoga pants had a small stain on the left leg from one of Stephanie's more memorable encounters with a garbage-throwing skip. He smiled at the memory, and then took a long look at Grace. She was wearing a tight blue shirt with the pants, presumably also from Stephanie's closet. He didn't think Ella had done any active wear shopping for Grace.

How old was she? Mid-fifties, he thought. She'd been almost forty at the time they'd met. Shit, he'd been young and stupid, but Grace had remedied that. After the fiasco with Rachel, he'd needed someone to straighten him out, and Grace had certainly done that, in more ways than one. Rachel had been a mistake from the start, but he'd been impulsive and arrogant, and thought he knew everything. He quickly found out he knew nothing. When Rachel had called and told him she was pregnant, he'd realized his cavalier attitude toward women had to change. And Grace had definitely changed him, for the better.

She looked to be in great shape, and if he was honest, she filled out the pants every bit as well as Stephanie did. He could see the ridge from the bandage that encompassed the right side of her abdomen. He watched as she very carefully extended her arms above her head and admired the fluidity with which she moved, even with an injured hand and healing gunshot wound.

"You are staring, Carlos."

"That was your intention, wasn't it?" He smiled to take any sting out of his words and was gratified when she smiled back. She leaned forward and wrapped her hands around her ankles, laying her chest along her thighs.

After a few minutes of watching her do her stretches, Ranger said, "Because I don't know any softer way to say it, lay off Tank."

"What do you mean?" she frowned slightly and then gave up the pretense of exercise. She sat on the couch and he sat in the armchair opposite her.

"You know what I mean, Grace."

"Are you jealous?" Grace teased, looking up at him through lowered lashes. She couldn't help herself, Ranger knew. Flirting was part of her nature and she'd honed the skill since she was very young. So he responded in kind.

"Maybe I am." He let his smile widen. "As it happens, jealously isn't the driving force behind my request. Tank is here to protect you. I know it's natural for you. I know, better than anyone, that you like to turn big macho men into sensitive lovers," he said, a meaningful look passing between them, "but Tank is off limits."

"For your information, Carlos, Pierre is very sensitive. I do not think I could teach him anything. He has all the earmarks of a generous and caring lover."

"And you know this how?" Ranger hoped to hell she wasn't going to say she knew because she'd slept with Tank. He'd hate to have to fire the man who was closer than a brother to him.

"I am an observer. I know."

"For your own safety, Grace, make sure you don't know in any other way. At least not as long as we have you sequestered here. Once you are no longer in danger, I'll keep my nose out of your business."

"That would be disappointing, Carlos, if you kept me out of your business. I find I am very attracted to the man you have become. More attracted even than I was to the man you were."

He didn't have an immediate answer to her statement. He let his eyes wander over her. At one time, this woman had been the most important person in his life. It was in some ways unbelievable that it had been fifteen years ago. She was still beautiful, and even with the limited mobility, she aroused him with her sensuous stretching movements. She had the body of a much younger woman. She was aware of it, and he knew she knew how to use it. The times he'd spent with her were some of his fondest memories. Things were getting complicated. He'd thought they might.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 - Shades of Grace**

Steph glanced up every time the front door opened, but so far, Lula was a no show. Steph grabbed another breadstick, her fifth one, and downed it in three bites. She was starving and regretted that she hadn't placed an order when she first arrived. When her stomach growled again, she got the waitress' eye and signaled her over.

"What'll it be?" the older woman asked, her pad and pencil resting on her considerable stomach.

"Deep dish pizza with everything, extra large," Lula ordered, slipping onto the bench across the table from Steph. "And an order of Buffalo wings. Make it two orders. And one of them antipasta things." She took a breadstick from the basket and started munching away.

"You mean, an antipasto plate?" the waitress asked in a tired voice.

"Yeah, of them. Oh, and a beer." Lula added.

The waitress gave Steph a questioning look.

"Sounds good. And I'll take another beer," Steph said, lifting her nearly empty bottle. The waitress nodded and moved to the next booth.

"Where've you been, Lula?" Steph groused. "I've been waiting forever."

Lula gave her a wide grin. "I've been at the shooting range with Cal and Jake. They're teaching me how to improve my aim. I found out I was doing it all wrong." She pointed her breadstick at Steph. "It wouldn't hurt you to take some shootin' lessons from Cal either. He's such a good teacher, I don't get nervous at all. He's easy to talk to and is a great conversationalist. We've been gettin' close the last few days, gettin' to know each other real well," she said with a wink.

"Oh, ew," Steph exclaimed. "You slept with Cal? He's your business partner, at least temporarily."

Lula waved her hand. "Nah, it's nothin' like that, though, maybe, after you come back, I wouldn't mind _conversing_ with that fine man on another level. He sure is big, and I like my men big, in every way." Grinning, she grabbed another breadstick and took a big bite. "Going to work with Cal every day is a joy, a real bona fidy joy." As she talked, she spewed crumbs across the table.

Steph flicked the bits of bread off her shirt. "Okay, it's obvious you like working with Cal," she grumbled. "Don't you even miss me a little?"

"Sure. Sure I do. At least with you, I can eat as many donuts and fried chicken as I want. With Cal, I have to be a bit more ... dainty."

Steph choked back a snort. Lula and dainty did not go together. But she understood the concept. Lula liked Cal and didn't want to scare him off.

"How's Jake doing?" Steph asked.

"He's doing just fine. Cal and me ... we're teaching that boy all there is to know about bounty hunting. He's a quick learner. And he's got the hots for you," Lula revealed.

"What?" Steph cried. "I don't believe you."

"It's true. He talks about you all the time and asks all sorts of questions about you. He's got it bad."

"He's too young for me. And whatever interest he has in me won't last long. Someone will mention Ranger to him, and this ... whatever it is Ranger and I have ... will scare him off."

"It might be good for Ranger to know that other men find you irresistible," Lula grumbled, and the she grinned. "A green-eyed Ranger would be a sight to behold."

The waitress brought a large tray over to their table and offloaded their order. Steph and Lula each grabbed a slice of pizza and took a bite. Neither said anything for several minutes as they wolfed down the food in front of them. As Steph chewed, she tried to imagine a jealous Ranger. Like she was becoming jealous of Grace. She was tempted to complain about Grace to Lula, but she bit her tongue. Even if she swore her best friend to secrecy, she knew Lula simply could not keep a secret.

After she'd eaten four slices of pizza and polished off a basketful of chicken wings, Steph returned to their earlier conversation. "In all that talking you and Cal and Jake did, did Cal ever mention me ... Ranger and me?"

"Come to think of it, he did," Lula replied. "He mentioned that you were working undercover with Ranger, but the way he said it, it was like he really meant 'under the covers.' Are you and Ranger doing the nasty? C'mon now, tell Lula all about it, and don't leave out none of the good stuff."

Steph rolled her eyes. "Ranger and I are _not_ doing it. Not even close to it. I'm working for RangeMan; it's strictly business." Well, mostly business, except for that mind-blowing kiss Ranger had planted on her earlier, she mused. "It sounds like the guys at RangeMan believe otherwise."

"Why the hell ain't you doing it with Ranger? Officer Hottie ain't in the picture no more. And if you're gonna be talked about anyway, you might as well give them something to talk about. It's not as if you don't have the hots for the man."

"Right now, I have a job to do. Ranger is paying me to do my job, not do him..."

Lula interrupted, "There's all kinds of jobs, if you know what I mean. Doing a ... _job_ ," Lula grinned, "on Ranger doesn't sound bad to me. What are you waiting for? You still like him, don't you?"

Steph nodded and then blew out a breath. It had never been a question of her liking Ranger or even of him liking her. It was a question of commitment. They both seemed to have issues in that regard.

For Steph, she didn't want a repeat of her marriage to Dickie Orr. It was one of the reasons why she could never commit to Joe. His reputation as a player and his family history of philandering men, had kept her from saying yes to any of Joe's proposals of marriage. Could he really be faithful to her? And, the other reason: Had she really been in love with Joe or were her feelings for him leftover from her teenage crush on him? She and Joe seemed to make better friends than they did lovers, and she was fine with that.

As for Ranger, he admitted he loved her, but at the same time, he said he didn't do relationships and could offer her nothing more than a warm bed. Actually, his bed was anything but lukewarm, it was smoking hot, but a good relationship, let alone a marriage, needed more than steamy sex to survive. She knew without a doubt that she loved him, but she needed a sign from him that he was willing to offer her more than a night of mind-blowing sex, and his friendship. And she wasn't holding her breath for that sign.

So, after several years of going back and forth between the two men in her life, she was still in a state of limbo, unable to move on with her life. She knew she wanted more for herself. Something had to change.

...

Grace couldn't sleep. Her conversation with Carlos had stirred up so many memories that her mind was on overload. She got out of bed and went to the window, pulling the curtains aside so she could look up at the stars. Odd to think they were the same stars she could gaze upon in Savannah. With a deep sigh, she let herself drift back in time.

When her fiancé had died, all hope for a normal life for her had died, too. She knew she would never be able to give her heart to another man, but she knew there would be other men in her life. Younger men worked well for her. They were eager to learn and just as eager to walk away, usually. No long-term commitments, just babes unschooled in the sexual arts that were willing to take what she'd give. It had been her avocation to show them the true path to ultimate physical pleasure. When she finished with them they knew that sexual gratification was an intricate dance of both giving and receiving, of being aware of their partner's needs ... and limits. She turned egocentric young men into generous caring lovers, and the world, especially her world, was a better place for it. She'd been called a cougar, but that term rankled her. She was a teacher. It was her gift, and she shared it generously, if discreetly.

And then came Carlos. In the beginning, he'd been like the others. Better looking than most and with an unbelievable stamina, even for a young man, but he'd still been far less experienced than she. He was open to experimentation and a keen learner, and in the end the teacher/pupil relationship had been obliterated. Their relationship had lasted longer than any other she'd allowed herself, and from time to time, she wondered what would have happened had not Carlos' deployment to the west coast ended it for them.

She'd never forgotten him and never completely lost touch with him. It hadn't been love, as least not like she'd known love before, but whatever they'd had, it was still between them, even after all these years. That was unacknowledged. They called themselves friends, and she supposed that was as good a word as any.

Seeing him again was pleasurable, but it also stirred up feelings she'd thought were dormant. She would gladly welcome Carlos back in her bed, if he came to her, but she remembered his warning about Pierre. Lay off Tank, he'd said. He might have been jealous, but there had been another reason as well. Carlos did not mix business with pleasure. She thought he was tempted though, and that thought would have to warm her bed until this nightmare was over.

With a shake of her head, she closed the curtains and retrieved her phone from her handbag. Replacing the battery, she turned the phone on. She wouldn't call; she wasn't a fool, but she wanted to hear his voice. Her latest paramour reminded her a little of Carlos. He was young, just out of Ranger School, and while not Hispanic, his swarthy dark skin and brooding temperament were reminiscent of Carlos. She scrolled down to her voicemail and hit play.

...

Finally, a ping! She'd been patiently waiting for that signal for several days. She readjusted her headphones and, with a few keystrokes, brought up a new location on one of the monitors situated in front of her. Somewhere near Trenton, New Jersey! Who would ever want to go there? Oh well, no accounting for some people's tastes. Now, to home in on the exact location, she just needed a few more minutes.

She was the only one working this late at night and that's the way she preferred it. Tracking the dregs of humanity via their phones and internet use was a specialty of hers, and the reason why the FBI was willing to pay her bonuses for every successful takedown her intel facilitated.

Most of the agents she worked with were motivated by their patriotic fervor, which she found pedantic and antiquated. For her, it was all about the money. She didn't mind working hard and or even working long hours without a break, as long as she was compensated handsomely for her time and skills.

Like this little extracurricular activity she was tracking now. Her successful efforts would bring in a tax-free 5K for just a few minutes of her time. She wasn't adverse to earning a little extra cash under the table, though she knew if she were caught, she would be summarily fired and brought up on charges of misfeasance. It's not as if she was providing info to the bad guys. She did have her principles, and only took supplementary jobs from other law enforcement officers. It was amazing how efficiently word-of-mouth worked in advertising her special services.

This latest off the books job was from a desperate sheriff right here in Georgia. He'd managed to lose his murder witness and needed her tracked down, on the q.t. The witness was a smart cookie, and had kept her phone turned off. All it took, though, was for the subject she was tracking to make one quick phone call or check their messages, and she would have the info she required.

There ... she had the coordinates. Picking up her personal cell phone, she called the sheriff in Savannah. When he answered, she triumphantly crowed, "I got her!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 - Saying Grace**

He hung up the phone. Daddy was angry. That was going to make things a little tough, because he had to get to Trenton, and he had to get there secretly. No airplane ride for him, because he had to fly under the radar. He laughed at his own joke. It would be so easy to borrow one of his daddy's cars. Maybe even a cop car. He could play the part of sheriff's deputy. He'd done it before. This time he was going to have to find a different way, because Daddy told him to stay the hell away, and he sounded like he meant it. Daddy had gone out on a shaky limb for him and found the information, so even though it meant no more help, he'd have to get by on his own. It took a couple of hours of hard thinking, but when the answer finally came he laughed out loud. It was the perfect plan.

...

"I'm sorry, Grace. I was supposed to talk to Ella yesterday and I completely forgot. We have food here, but nothing prepared. I'll see what I can come up with."

Grace smiled, mildly enjoying Stephanie's discomfiture. "Do not worry about it, dear," she said. "Tank mentioned last week that cooking was not one of your favorite things."

"I don't mind cooking," Stephanie said. "I just don't do it often enough to be good at it."

"I am a very good cook," Grace told her, "when I am not wounded." She ruefully held up her bandaged hand. "Maybe we can make this a joint effort. I can be the culinary director, and you can be the … producer!" They laughed together and Grace was relieved to see the strained look leave Stephanie's face.

"I am not all that hungry," Grace said. "We do not have to worry about a big meal for lunch. We can just have sandwiches."

"Sandwiches sound good," Stephanie said. "And I make a mean peanut butter and olive sandwich, if you're game for it."

"Olive?" Grace questioned. "Black or green?"

"Green, with pimentos."

"I have never had one. My favorite is peanut butter and pickles."

"Hmm," Stephanie said, consideringly. "I've never had one of those, but it sounds interesting."

"Oh my goodness," Grace said, drawing out the last word. "Why not have both? We can make little finger sandwiches and we will both taste each other's favorite!"

Together they went to the kitchen and gathered the few ingredients to make their sandwiches. Grace sat at the kitchen island and offered suggestions to Stephanie, mainly not to forget the layer of mayonnaise between the peanut butter and the pickles.

"This would be a bad time for Ranger to walk in on us," Stephanie commented. She set a plate of mini sandwiches, garnished with chips, in front of Grace. "He's got this whole 'the body is a temple' thing going on."

"I remember Carlos always was very conscious of what he put in his mouth." She smiled and let her thoughts slide backwards. When she saw the intense look Stephanie was giving her she laughed. "I did not mean to imply anything other than healthy eating habits, of course!"

"It's true he has a healthy lifestyle," Stephanie said, not returning Grace's smile, "but once in a while he's been known to eat dessert. He likes pie, you know." Grace did know and now she knew that the little kitten had claws. She should have known that from the beginning. Carlos would never be interested in a shrinking violet, and even though the signs were subtle, it was clear that Carlos was interested in Stephanie, and she in him.

They were through eating, but still having a multi-layered conversation when the doorbell rang. Both women froze.

"Someone is at the door," Grace said, a tremor shaking her voice.

"Yeah," Stephanie said. "Why don't you head on into your bedroom. Lock the door behind you." Grace did as she was told without hesitation. Stephanie reached for her gun, which had been lying on the counter. She went to the control panel and pushed the video button. The outside of the house was monitored by cameras and she had a good view of the front porch, if not the man standing on it.

She watched as he waited a few moments and then he pushed the doorbell button again. He was wearing a white polo shirt, untucked, and khaki pants, and he was carrying a clipboard. His body was turned from the camera so his face wasn't completely visible, and on top of that he had a good start on a beard. A navy ball cap was pulled low on his forehead. It was a warm day outside, so maybe he was just protecting his face from the sun. Or maybe he was purposely hiding his identity. Her heart was beating double-time as he stood waiting for someone to come to the door. After a minute he turned, away from the camera so she still didn't have a good look, and walked off the porch and down the walk, out of camera range.

She made her way to the living room, and carefully peeked through the closed blinds. She couldn't see far to the left or right, but she had a view of several houses across the street. There was no sign of the man. If he was canvassing the neighborhood, selling magazines or cable TV subscriptions, he was doing it on her side of the street, because there was no sign of him across the street. She went back to the control panel and flipped through all the camera feeds. No one was around the house. She calmed down a little and went to get Grace.

"There was a guy at the door," she told Grace. "I think he was selling something and it looks like he moved on. Just to be sure I'd like you to look at the tape. You might recognize him and that would be a whole different story."

"It certainly would," Grace agreed. Together they replayed the portion of the feed that showed the man on the porch. "I cannot really get a good look at his face," Grace said, her voice a little higher than usual. "Do you think that is on purpose?"

"I don't know," Stephanie said. "He may have just been avoiding the sun."

"Are you going to call Carlos?" Grace asked, her brows wrinkled as she added, "I think you should. I didn't recognize him, but we should tell Carlos." Her eyes kept darting around the room, lingering on the closed drapes and doors.

"No," Stephanie told her. "We're safe here. The place is monitored and I can see there is no one on the property. We'll wait 'til shift change and tell them then." The women went on with their day as planned, though Grace seemed preoccupied. Toward the end of her shift, Stephanie changed Grace's bandages and commented that her wounds looked good.

When Tank and Ranger entered the house late in the afternoon, Grace rushed up to them. "Carlos, Pierre, I am so glad you are here. A man came to the house today."

Both men swiveled and looked at Stephanie. She raised her hand forestalling any questions. "Someone knocked on the door at lunchtime," Stephanie told them. "I had Grace take cover in her room and checked the camera. It appeared to be a salesman or someone canvassing the neighborhood. When we didn't open the door he left, and when I had Grace look at the footage, he didn't seem familiar to her. End of story."

Ranger nodded, but before he could comment, Grace burst out, "I was frightened. I told Stephanie to call you, but she wouldn't."

Stephanie felt her hackles rising. When did Grace turn into this tattletale? If Grace been as vociferous with her objections earlier, then she would have broken down and called Ranger, but Grace had seemed okay with Stephanie's decision at the time. Now Grace was making it seem as though Stephanie had done something irresponsible. Ranger's response calmed her rising irritation.

"In this case, Stephanie did exactly the right thing," Ranger said. "We'll do a little neighborhood canvassing ourselves and find out if this person stopped at other houses. Calling me or Tank wouldn't have done any good. You are safe here with Stephanie, Grace. I wouldn't leave you with her if you weren't."

Stephanie felt like sticking her tongue out at Grace. She settled for giving her a mental "So there!" and concentrated on what Ranger was saying.

"I do have some unwelcome news for you, though. Someone broke into your garage yesterday and stole your car."

"My car!" Grace exclaimed. "Not the Mustang!"

"I'm afraid, so," Ranger said. He remembered the car, which had been a classic even back when he'd been with her. It had, he thought, belonged to her fiancé. A '65 candy-apple red Mustang, all original, that Grace had cherished.

"RangeMan received notification from your attorney this morning. The necessary police reports have been filed. My question is, was there anything in that car that might jeopardize your safety here?"

"Oh my goodness, no!" Grace exclaimed. "I called you and then did exactly as you said. I told no one, about you or that I was coming here."

"Good, because the question that came immediately to my mind is, was the theft connected to the man who came to this house today? It appears the answer is no."

Ranger turned to Tank who was restocking the refrigerator with Ella's casseroles. "Everything good out there, Pierre?"

"Fu….." Tank's answer was mostly muffled mumbles.

"What was that?" Ranger asked.

"Fine. I said everything's fine."

"Good, then Stephanie and I will be on our way."

They'd been in the Porsche for a few minutes when Ranger realized that Stephanie wasn't talking. "Trouble, Babe?"

"I don't know," she said. "Something feels off. I can't explain it, something just doesn't feel quite right."

"You mean about the guy at the door?"

"Maybe, but I've felt this way most of the day. I thought maybe I was worried about fixing lunch, but that went well. We had peanut butter pickle and peanut butter olive sandwiches."

"Babe."

"It was fun. That's not what this feeling is about. Ever since lunch, something has just not been as it should be. I can't shake it. Should I have called you?" she asked.

"No. If the visitor had attempted to become an intruder, then yes. As it stands, you did exactly what I wanted you to. You had your gun within easy reach. You had Grace take cover. You checked the surveillance cameras. You did your job, Babe. Something's bothering you. Is it Grace?"

"I don't know! But since you brought her up," Steph hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject, "how good of friends were … are you?"

Ranger slowed the Porsche to turn into the entrance to the RangeMan parking garage. As he shut off the engine, he turned to Stephanie. "Come upstairs. We'll talk."

At least he hadn't said, "We need to talk." Stephanie consoled herself that there was a difference. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Sometimes she called it her spidey sense. Lula said she was psychic. Maybe she was anxious. Whatever it was, hearing Ranger talk about Grace probably wouldn't calm her down, but no way was she going to pass up an opportunity to hear it.

As he closed the door to the apartment, she went to move around him, but her progress was impeded by Ranger's hand closing around her upper arm. Before she could think, she was against the wall and his lips were on hers. Heat zinged through her body and settled low. The familiar feeling of need and well-being warred for dominance, and then she was struggling, pushing, twisting to break contact.

Ranger pulled back rubbing his jaw where her forehead had accidentally made contact in her effort to break free. "A simple no would have done it, Babe."

"Ranger!" She was almost shouting. "I know! I know what's been bothering me. The guy's ball cap. It had a logo. It's what made me think he was a salesman. But it wasn't a logo. It was an Atlanta Braves ball cap … and Atlanta is close to Savannah!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 - Lapse from Grace**

"You think the safe house has been compromised," Ranger said, not quite questioning Stephanie, but rather making a statement of fact.

"That's what my gut is telling me." Steph paced in front of Ranger as she talked. "There was something about the guy's appearance that didn't gel for me. And the more I think about it, the more I think he was trying to hide his face. His cap was pulled down so low on his forehead, it just didn't look right. But how could anyone know we were there, that Grace was there?"

"I don't know," he replied. "Are you sure you haven't discussed your assignment with anyone?"

She puffed up a bit and set her jaw. "No, Ranger. I haven't said anything to anyone."

"You said earlier that you had dinner with Lula..."

"NO! We didn't discuss what I was doing. Lula knows I'm working for you, but nothing more than that." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

It was Ranger's turn to pace. "I've kept this case deep under wraps. The lawyer we use for RangeMan in Atlanta works for a large firm, and he has dozens of clients. We're just one of many and a low key client at that. I trust both him and his firm to maintain our confidentiality. He knows we are providing protection for Grace, but he has no idea where she is. And no one here at RangeMan, except you, Tank and me, know we are hiding Grace or that we are using a safe house. And my men know better than to speculate on what we are doing. If there's a leak, it isn't coming from us."

"Could it be coming from Grace?" Steph asked, hesitantly. Ranger's head shot up and he focused an intense stare at her. "Not intentionally," she backpedaled. "But maybe ... she inadvertently did something that gave ... something away." She looked away, unable to withstand Ranger's hard stare.

"Grace was almost killed. Do you really think she would do anything to jeopardize her own safety, her own life?"

"Like I said, not intentionally," Steph repeated. "Did you let her keep her phone?"

Ranger's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but I had her remove the battery and told her, under no circumstances to make any phone calls."

Steph shrugged. "I'm out of ideas." She sank down onto the couch and then pulled her legs up under her body. Ranger continued to pace. Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

He stopped in front of her. "I'm going to Savannah," he announced. Startled, Steph looked up at him. He continued. "It's time we take a more active role in this case. Grace doesn't trust the sheriff's office, and our lawyer hasn't been too impressed with his interactions with that office either. I need to see for myself what the holdup is in finding out who attacked Grace. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Of course you will," Steph said, her voice low and resigned. "You'll do anything to help Grace. You never doing anything halfway. That's just who you are."

"Why do I get the feeling you're disappointed in me?"

She looked up at him. "I'm not disappointed. Just realizing. It doesn't matter who's in trouble, you always go above and beyond to save the day."

He sat on the couch next to her. "You mean you thought I did this kind of thing just for you?"

"Well, you _have_ come to my rescue many times. I've been lucky that you've been so willing to pull my ass out of the fire time again and time again."

"I like your ass." He grinned and leaned over to nuzzle her neck.

Reluctantly, Steph pulled away, but she couldn't help thinking, _My ass isn't the only ass you like_. Crossing her arms over her chest, she reminded him, "You brought me up here to tell me about your relationship with Grace. Why don't we get that out of the way?"

Ranger settled back against the cushions. He read her body language loud and clear. She was not pleased with him, and he knew what he had to tell her wouldn't make her any happier. Better to rip the bandage off quickly. "I don't have a 'relationship' with Grace. You know I don't do relationships."

Steph rolled her eyes. Not that again, she thought. How many times had she heard that tired phrase?

"However," he added, "We were close at one time."

That pronouncement brought Steph's head up and her eyes locked on Ranger's.

"When Grace and I first met, there was an instant attraction, a sexual attraction," he said.

Steph stiffened.

Ranger plunged ahead. After all, this happened fifteen years ago, he reasoned. "I was young and, like most red-blooded young men, looking for easy sex. Grace wasn't easy, but she was willing, under certain conditions. And I had to be willing, or open, to instruction."

"What kind of instruction?" Steph asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm getting to that." Ranger paused, took a deep breath and went on. "I was an arrogant son of a bitch..."

Steph uttered a derisive, "No!"

Ranger smirked. "You may think I still am, but back then, I was worse, as well as rude and crude. Grace took it as a challenge ... to polish my rough edges. I was in it for the sex, and while I know she enjoyed that too, what she really got off on was teaching. Teaching me how to slow down and "listen" to my partner. How to give a woman pleasure in ways that most guys simply don't have the inclination or patience for. She taught me that by putting my partner's pleasure first, my own sexual gratification would be increased exponentially. And she was right."

He reached his hand out to touch Steph's, but she jerked it away. Her eyes were filled with confusion, her mind working overtime. Then she gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth. She stared wide-eyed at Ranger and exclaimed, "She was your Mrs. Robinson!" referring to the May/December relationship between Dustin Hoffman and Anne Bancroft in the movie The Graduate. She felt numb inside as the reality of what he was saying fully hit her.

"I wouldn't characterize it like that, but, yes, we had a sexual affair that lasted a couple of years. It was just physical sex, not a romantic relationship. As you know, I don't do that. And, what Grace and I had is over, it was over years ago. We're just friends now."

Steph kept her expression blank, but inside she was screaming. Her emotions were bouncing all over the place. Shock, anger, jealousy, disappointment, fear. She knew Ranger had had other women in his life, and probably still did, but she'd never seen or even heard any evidence of other women. He was great in bed, in fact, he was fantastic in bed, but now, to know who had taught him all of that, to have met her and gotten to know and like her, that was a real shock and not in a good way. She'd been hoping Ranger was changing in regard to a romantic relationship, but obviously it was too much to hope for. All he wanted from her, from any woman, was sex. And now, all she wanted to do was run screaming from the room, but she didn't want him to see how hurt she was. Many seconds passed, but it felt like hours before she could speak.

"Friends. Like you and I are friends, " she said flatly, keeping any evidence of her inner turmoil out of her voice. She and Ranger were friends, but they were friends with benefits. What kind of benefits did Grace still get?

"Not exactly like you and I. I do have an emotional attachment to you." He smiled and let the backs of his fingers stroke her cheek. "And we do have sex, whenever I can get you alone long enough for you to drop your guard."

"But it's still just about the sex," she said, hoping he would say that what they had was more than just sex.

"Sex is a powerful thing, Babe."

"Yes, it is," she agreed. For a full minute, she just sat there, staring at the wall across the room. She screwed her mouth around and bit her lower lip, trying to make a decision. After a prolonged strained silence, she finally said, "I find Grace's ... um ... lifestyle intriguing. It makes me realize I could be doing more with my life. Maybe I should consider doing something like that. There is someone who is interested in me right now. He's a younger man ... he's good-looking and seems very nice. It's ... Jake. Jake Jones."

"Babe."

"I'm serious," she said, giving her head a single nod down and back up again. "I think I might give this sex teacher thing a try. Don't worry. I won't do anything on work time, but what I do, and what your employees do, after work is our business. And it would just be sex." She stared at him as long as she could, but finally, she had to look away. Her jaws were clenched and beginning to ache, but there was no way she was going to let him see her hurt or her anger.

Ranger closed his eyes for a moment and then he stood up. "I have to make flight arrangements before my shift starts. We can talk more about this after we finish this protection case. Right now, we both need to focus on that," he said, effectively stopping all further conversation.

Steph got up and moved toward the foyer. "Be careful in Savannah," she said.

He nodded.

She left.

...

The roundabout route to the safe house was important, but also wearing. His mind was going a hundred miles a minute in several different directions, all the while monitoring traffic and making sure no one was following him. Outwardly, he looked calm and in control. Stephanie would have said he was in his zone, but in reality his zone was a façade. Ranger Mañoso liked things orderly, controlled and highly functioning, and that included his private life, but that was quickly eroding. Something had to give soon. Going to Savannah was the right decision because they had to find Grace's attacker. The safe house and Stephanie's part in it needed to be history.

Stephanie had listened calmly to everything he'd said, and then just as calmly announced she was considering taking a younger lover. Fuck that! Jake Jones was a recruit he had high hopes for. An Army reservist, he had excellent references and good basic training. Working with RangeMan would benefit him, as well as RangeMan, so Ranger was hesitant to come down too hard on him, but Stephanie would not be fulfilling her sexual fantasies with Jake … or any other RangeMan employee. He knew he couldn't issue orders to Stephanie, but there were other ways to get what he wanted. He'd told her sex was a powerful thing, and just as soon as this safe house situation was over, he'd begin a campaign to exert that power with her on a regular basis.

When he entered the safe house he found Tank alone in the kitchen. "Where's Grace?" Ranger asked.

"She said she wasn't feeling well, so she's spent most of the evening in her room," Tank said. "I've checked on her, and she's doing okay. I don't think she's physically sick. More like worried. Maybe we need to move her?"

"Not yet," Ranger said. "I've made arrangements to go to Savannah tomorrow. I'm going to look into things from that end. I also asked Lester to canvass the neighborhood tomorrow. Just a couple of blocks in either direction. We'll find out what that guy wanted. Maybe he was selling magazines, but maybe not. Stephanie thinks the guy was wearing an Atlanta Braves ball cap."

"Shit! Maybe just a coincidence," Tank said. "Except we don't believe in coincidences. You bringing Lester in on this?"

"Yeah, I am. I haven't read him in yet, but he knows someone important is in this house. If he comes up with nothing, then it's likely the guy was targeting this place. At that point I'll take the camera feed live to RangeMan and put someone on it 24/7, and then I'll have Lester join Stephanie here during the day. I've racked my brain and can't figure out the connection. I'd bet my bottom dollar it's not at RangeMan, though."

"Stephanie?" Tank asked. Ranger shook his head. "I mean, inadvertently," Tank said.

Again Ranger shook his head. "She says no, and I believe her." Ranger remembered Stephanie's suggestion that it was Grace. He'd ask her for the sake of completeness, but Grace had fully understood the importance of no communication.

"You want me to stay tonight?" Tank asked. "When are you leaving for Savannah?"

"Go on home," Ranger told him. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning just as soon as I leave here, and I hope to be back tomorrow night. If I'm not back in time, you'll have to pull a double shift. I plan on getting in, looking around and getting back out, but plans change."

"No shit!" Tank turned and coded the control panel and walked out the door into the garage. Ranger waited until he heard the garage door slide back shut after Tank's departure and took a quick look at the feed from the cameras. All quiet. He went to find Grace.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 - Surrender to Grace**

Ranger knocked on Grace's bedroom door and heard a faint "Yes?" in reply.

"It's Carlos, Grace. Tank just left. He said you were unwell. Is there something I can do to help?" The bedroom door opened and Grace stood before him in a pale green … what was the word? Not negligee, maybe peignoir set. He was not an expert on women's nightwear. Most times he preferred women not wearing anything at night.

"That's quite an outfit," he said.

"Thank Ella for me," Grace said. "She has done an outstanding job. Especially considering we have never met."

"I asked you for your sizes, remember?"

"Yes, but still, Carlos, it is almost as if she knew my personal taste."

"I gave her a good description to go on," he said. "Tank said you weren't feeling well, but you appear to have recovered."

She smiled at him and walked, or maybe floated, past him in a sea of green fluff and walked into the living room where she settled herself on the sofa. "I was not ill, just unsettled at the thought someone might have found me. I am calmer now. And, although Tank and Stephanie do a wonderful job, I feel safer now that you are here."

Ranger looked at her for a long moment before he sat across from her in the oversized armchair. She'd been beautiful when they'd met and she was no less beautiful now. Telling Stephanie an abbreviated version of him and Grace had his thoughts running to those times, long ago. He could still feel the heat and humidity of the nights in Savannah. Those born to it loved it. Those imported from other areas tolerated it. The fragrance of the air there was something completely different.

He'd remembered the scent of jasmine mingling with other sharper smells that he couldn't identify. There had been long strolls with Grace through fragrant gardens, their fingers intertwined, and Grace's soft voice telling him in quiet detail what she would do to him once they'd made their way back to her quarters at the club. By the time they'd neared the establishment he'd wanted her so badly he could barely walk. She'd taught him patience. And even now he could remember that the wait had always been worth it.

"A penny for them, Carlos." He looked up in surprise to see her eyes on him. He wondered, for a moment, if she could read his mind. "I was remembering fragrant gardens," he said truthfully.

Grace stood abruptly and made her way across the room to him. She leaned in and sat on his lap, tucking her feet under the flowing gown. Her actions took him by surprise at first, and then he smelled it. Her cologne was reminiscent of the fragrance of those shared nights long ago.

"I have always wondered what would have become of us, Carlos, if you had not been so suddenly deployed to the west coast." She leaned her head back against his chest. "We started out on one level, but we were reaching for another, and then you were gone."

Yes, he'd left and what had come after had changed his life. It was true what he told Stephanie. There had not been a relationship beyond the physical with Grace, but there might have been. What had come after his time with her had changed his life in ways he could never have foreseen. Special ops, each one more dangerous than the last. He'd seen and done things that had been unimaginable to him during his time in Savannah, and he'd been good at them. Scarily good.

Others had made a career out of military service, but not him. He'd gotten out when he could, for the simple reason of saving his soul. RangeMan had been a dream and it had come to fruition. His military training and experience had given him the skills for this new life and robbed him of the ability to go back to the naïve young man he'd been.

He didn't do relationships, but he'd considered it at one time. Grace readjusted herself on his lap and he felt himself harden. The attraction was still there, but they couldn't start up where they'd left off. Too much water under his bridge, and probably hers, too.

She twisted slightly and, without warning, found his mouth with hers. In spite of his earlier intentions, he found himself returning the kiss. It was at once familiar and foreign. He deepened the kiss and took control from her. And then, before the situation got out of hand, he pulled back.

"It's not going to happen, Grace." His words were there between them, and yet she still leaned into him.

"And why not, Carlos? I can feel that you still want me."

He didn't deny what was obvious. "I'm a man with responsibilities," he told her. "One of them is keeping you safe. I won't compromise that for a quick fuck."

"Is that all it would be between us?" she asked. "I thought we were friends, that there was affection between us. And the Carlos I remember savored the pleasure. Quick was not on your agenda."

Ranger smiled at her comment and reached a hand out to trace the sleek curve of her hair, so different from the curls he usually stroked. "I do have feelings for you," he said. "But I have a life here in Trenton, and once this is over you will go back to your life in Savannah."

"And you have no time for anything but work anymore? We used to see one another long after you left Savannah. You traveled hours to see me once you went to Fort Benning. Surely you have the resources to make an occasional trip to Savannah."

"I have women in my life, Grace. But no one special." He paused as an image of Stephanie, sated from his lovemaking, crossed his mind. "My life has no room for relationships. I care about you. I don't sleep with women I care about."

Again, the image of Stephanie came front and center.

"I see," she said, as she rose from his lap. "I am sorry if I placed you in an awkward situation here. When I called you it was because I knew I could trust you. The rekindling of our relat…um, friendship had not crossed my mind. At least not until I saw you."

"There is no need for an apology. After I saw you, _rekindling_ crossed my mind, too. But our time together is in the past, and it will stay in the past. I'll keep you safe and continue to cherish you as a friend—if you'll still have me as a friend."

"Always, my dear." She stood and went toward the door to her bedroom. The smile she gave him was pure Southern flirtation. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

He smiled at her and then, as her bedroom door closed, leaned back and closed his eyes. He was going to have to cut Stephanie some slack. He'd overheard conversations more than once between her and Lula. She'd told him many times that it was over with Morelli, but when the cop called, even as recently as a few days ago, she always went. Maybe she was hedging her bets. If he'd come forward and offered her something with some permanence, she might have dumped Morelli. But he wouldn't do that. So Stephanie waffled between two men, not able to break free and move forward. When Lula asked for specifics, Stephanie always said, "It's complicated."

He was sitting on the sofa in the safe house burdened with the knowledge that he had feelings for two women. Complicated. Hell to the fucking yes. It was complicated.

Ranger didn't sleep that night, and he kept a vigilant watch on the house and Grace. So deep was his contemplation of his personal situation, he didn't even remember he'd intended to question Grace about any possible cell phone use.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 - Pilgrimage of Grace**

With his phone resting on his thigh, Ranger drove south from the airport into the heart of Savannah. He was waiting to hear from Marcos, who managed the RangeMan office in Atlanta. Ranger had called him last night and asked Marcos to use his contacts in Georgia to find out all he could about the Chadwick County Sheriff's Office, but on the q.t. He also wanted to know the current status of the cases involving Grace: the murder she had witnessed and the attack on her, but from the perspective of other law enforcement agencies, not the sheriff's office.

It was late morning, but the day was already heating up. He'd forgotten just how hot and humid it was down here. Driving through Savannah's picturesque historic downtown with its manicured parks, cobblestoned streets and ornate antebellum architecture evoked old memories for Ranger, of a time when his adult life was just beginning. A time when all things were possible and he thought he could have it all. In retrospect, he'd been an idealist, though he never would have described himself in those terms back then. He'd been naive to think there wouldn't be a price, a heavy toll to be paid, for his actions during his time as an Army Ranger. Savannah represented his innocence, Ft. Benning the loss of that innocence and his closed heart.

He parked on Gaston Street and entered Forsyth Park, a place he and Grace had visited many times. He followed the path through thick stands of oak trees and majestic magnolia trees covered with Spanish moss. The heat and humidity seeped into his pores and the pungent smell of the thick vegetation around him filled his nostrils with the scents of the South. He could practically feel Grace walking beside him, her slow drawl enticing him with her words of inspiration, and passion. You couldn't spend five minutes with Grace without an awareness of her allure, her sexual energy. He inhaled and then exhaled deeply. Even with the passage of time, she still could weave her spell around him.

Finally, his phone rang. It was Marcos. He moved off the main path and leaned up against a towering oak tree.

"Report," he commanded.

"It's messy," Marcos replied. "The Sheriff's Office has a good reputation, in general. But in regards to the murder investigation you asked about, it seems there is a serious question of jurisdiction. Normally, this case would have been handled by the Savannah Chadwick Metropolitan Police Department. For some reason, though, the sheriff claimed the murder case and insisted it be investigated solely by the Sheriff's Office. From what I understand, they usually handle only court-ordered cases. The sheriff's insistence on jurisdiction in this case hasn't sat well with the local PD, but Savannah's crime rate has skyrocketed and the local law enforcement agencies are in turmoil, from their heavy caseloads, to their budgets, to the political situation. Because of it, no one seems too concerned about the dubious jurisdiction of one lowly murder case."

"Someone must know something."

"I couldn't find anyone who knew what was happening regarding the case. There has been no cooperation from the sheriff and the rumor is that he is handling it personally, which is extremely odd. There has been no request for assistance, no BOLO, no witness sketch, no nothing. But again, no one I talked to seems too concerned about it. The murder victim, Jonathan Black, was a local drug dealer, so no one is too upset that he got offed. They are too busy dealing with their own problems. As for the attack on the lone witness, a Grace Galloway, there is even less information known about it."

"Bottom line, Marcos," Ranger spat out.

"If you want to know more about either case, the person to talk to is the sheriff himself," Marcos said.

"I intend to," Ranger affirmed.

...

The Sheriff's Office was located on the grounds of the Chadwick County Jail. It was a stark setting compared to the rich, cultural ambiance of Savannah. A heavily armed deputy escorted Ranger through the industrial-looking complex to the Sheriff's Office. Ranger was asked to stay in the busy reception area while he waited for Sheriff Jerry Don Miller. A young woman in a khaki deputy's uniform offered Ranger his choice of coffee or sweet tea and then returned to her post behind the reception counter.

After ten minutes or so, a big burly uniformed man strode out of the hallway on the right and approached Ranger. Smiling, he stuck out his hand and greeted his visitor. "Sheriff Jerry Don Miller. You must be Mr. Mañoso." Ranger stood and shook hands with the man who towered over him.

"Thank you for seeing me, Sheriff," Ranger said.

"I understand you wanted to meet with me." Sheriff Miller looked like an amiable man, maybe in his mid-50s, more salt than pepper in his hair.

"I'm following up on a case under your jurisdiction. Is there someplace quieter that we can talk?" Ranger asked.

"Sure, sure." The sheriff turned to the deputy behind the reception counter and said, "We'll be in Conference Room C. Hold my calls, will ya, Shirley?" The sheriff gestured toward a door down the hallway he'd entered from, and the two men walked over to Conference Room C. The sheriff took a seat on one side of the large table and Ranger sat across from him.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Mañoso?" Sheriff Miller asked pleasantly. "What case do you want to talk about?" He leaned back in his chair and smiled at Ranger.

Ranger leaned forward, his forearms on the table. "The murder of Jonathan Black. Do you have any leads on who killed him?"

The sheriff studied the man sitting across from him, shifting in his chair several times before he answered. "That's an ongoing case. I can't really discuss the specifics. All I can say is that we are following up on all investigative leads."

Ranger fixed Sheriff Miller in his gaze. "I understand there was an eyewitness. Was that witness able to identify the murderer?"

Sheriff Miller twisted his head from side to side as if he was trying to relieve some pressure in his neck. "There was a witness, but they were unable to identify the perpetrator." Ranger didn't respond; he just kept staring. The sheriff nervously continued. "The description we have is vague. Male, probably Caucasian or Hispanic, between 20 to 45 years of age, between 170 and 200 pounds, at least 5'10", but no taller than 6'2". That covers a lot of ground, and a lot of men."

Ranger nodded. The sheriff had confirmed the description Grace had already given him. "Is there a sketch of the perp?" he asked. Grace had told him she had described the man she saw that awful night to a police artist. She knew there was a sketch.

It took several moments for the sheriff to respond. "Yes, but it's so generic, we haven't distributed it."

That response had Ranger sitting up straight. "You haven't provided copies of the sketch to other law enforcement agencies? Isn't that standard procedure," Ranger questioned sharply.

The sheriff jerked his head back and narrowed his eyes. "As I said, the sketch is too vague to be of much assistance."

"May I see it?"

Again, Sheriff Miller narrowed his eyes at Ranger. "What is your interest in this case, Mr. Mañoso?" he queried, his voice no longer amiable.

Calmly, Ranger explained, "I've been asked to follow up on the progress of this investigation. Regarding the eyewitness, she was almost killed while under your protective custody. How do you explain that?"

The sheriff's face grew red quickly and he jerked forward. "Who are you working for?" he probed, his voice getting louder and more insistent. "Nobody has asked anything about this case, not until you came along. I demand to know who put you up to this."

"Who I work for is confidential, but they are concerned there hasn't been more progress in finding the murderer. They are wondering why you aren't cooperating more with other law enforcement agencies."

"Who's making these accusations? Who the hell are you working for?" the increasingly irate sheriff yelled.

"I think we're finished, Sheriff Miller," Ranger stood up. "I'd like a copy of the sketch before I leave."

"No," Sheriff Miller said angrily, as he rose up out of the chair. "No one receives a copy of it until I go public with it."

"I don't think you plan to release it. I imagine the public, and your supporters—all voters—would be interested in knowing that you've been dragging your feet on a murder case, a murder that happened in their community. And that the only eyewitness was nearly killed while in your protective custody. If that information got out, do you really think they will vote for you in the next election, Sheriff Miller?" Ranger walked out the door and strode down the hallway and out of the building. He moved quickly across the complex to the front parking lot. He wasn't sure what the sheriff's action would be to his harsh words and he didn't wait to find out.

As he drove toward the airport, Ranger glanced at his watch. It was just after 12. If he could catch a flight out within the hour, he'd be back in Trenton in time to pick up Stephanie at the safe house. He called Tank.

"I just finished my interview with Sheriff Jerry Don Miller. He was not forthcoming," he said. "Grace was right not to trust him. It's obvious he's trying to sweep this murder under the table. I figure he's covering for someone. We need to find out who that is, so we have some leverage on him. Anything new to report from your end?"

"Lester is canvassing the neighborhood around the safe house. He should report in soon," Tank said.

"Regardless of what he finds, let's move Grace to another safe house. Set it up and we'll move her tonight."

"I'm on it," Tank replied.

Ranger was able to get on a nonstop two-hour flight from Savannah to Philadelphia. The airlines were still being strict about no use of cell phones during the flight. When he landed in Philly, he checked his messages. There were two: one from Lester and one from Tank. He tapped on Lester's and listened.

"Hey, Boss. I just finished canvassing the neighborhood, and no one remembers anyone fitting that guy's description knocking on their door yesterday. I'm returning to the office unless I hear back from you." He'd left the message shortly after Ranger's plane was in the air.

Tank's message had been recorded just minutes before he'd landed in Philadelphia. Ranger could tell by Tank's first few words, it was not good news. "Just got a call from our lawyer in Atlanta. He said he got a call from the Savannah Chadwick Metropolitan Police Department. They had received a call from the Trenton PD, who found Grace's Mustang. It was abandoned on a dirt road on the outskirts of Trenton. I'm taking Lester and we are on our way to the safe house. Meet us there as soon as you can."

Ranger sprinted for the short-term parking lot. It would take forty interminable minutes to drive to Trenton. He might be able to shave some time off since the safe house was in southwest Trenton. Plus, he planned to put pedal to the metal.

As soon as he was in the car, that's exactly what he did, his mind racing as fast as the vehicle.

Fuck! Somehow, someone had to have found out that Grace was in Trenton. That was the only explanation for Grace's stolen Mustang being found up here. No way it was a coincidence. Did they know about the safe house? Of course they did. That man who knocked on the door ... fuck and double fuck!

Twenty minutes into his race home, his phone rang. It was Tank. "Report," Ranger barked.

"It's totally FUBAR, Ranger." Tank's voice was at a high pitch. "There's a dead body in the house—a man. Stephanie and Grace ... they're ... they're at the hospital."

Time slowed to a crawl for Ranger as Tank continued. "The police were here when we arrived. Ambulances had already taken both women to the hospital. According to the cops on the scene, both were shot at close range, one in critical condition."

Ranger's heart stopped. "Who?"

"I don't know. The police can't give me any details. Ranger, it just happened. They won't let us inside. I've called Bobby and he's on his way to St. Francis."

"I'll meet him there."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 - Courage is Grace Under Pressure**

Grace was taking yet another nap, supposedly. Stephanie didn't buy it, but didn't wonder too much about what Grace did behind the closed door of her bedroom. She probably just needed some alone time, and Stephanie got that completely. After Ranger's bombshell last night, Steph was more than happy not to spend the day making nice to Grace.

Ranger was financially generous with his employees so there was no real complaint she could make about working a regular schedule, but she was looking forward to the time when she could get back to her old routine. Who would have thought she'd miss Vinnie's whining, Connie's incessant gossip and Lula's insatiable snacking, not to mention the adrenaline of the chase and capture. This job was low on adrenaline rushes, but that was a good thing.

When she'd first agreed to take the job of safe house sitting with Grace it had sounded like a cushy way to make a few extra thousand. Today, she was feeling a little differently about it, to say the least. For years she had wondered about Ranger's secretive past. Now she had a good look into part of it, and she wasn't sure she liked what she saw. It wasn't that she didn't like Grace, because she did. It was that she didn't like the way Grace liked Ranger, and to be completely honest, she didn't like the way Ranger liked Grace.

There was a lesson to be learned from Grace, though. She was old enough to be Stephanie's mother, and that meant she was old enough to be Ranger's mother, too. But there was nothing motherly about the way Grace looked at Ranger. Grace had harbored feelings for Ranger for fifteen years. Fifteen years from now, she, Stephanie Plum, might still be doing the same thing. That was an unpleasant thought. Maybe it was time to look in a new direction. But what direction?

The only available men she ever came in contact with were the men of RangeMan. With the exception of Lester, the guys stayed far away from her. She didn't know if the threat had been made verbal or was just implicit. Ranger had marked her as his territory. No one else could play in his yard. And yet, he wouldn't make any permanent commitment to her. Maybe it was time to look for a new job. There was still the possibility of Joe. She knew he wanted to turn her into the next generation of Burg wife. That was something she wasn't willing to consider, even if it would be a way to kill her secret and improbable dream of a committed relationship with Ranger. Maybe it was time to look into moving to a new city, or even a new state.

This morning she'd wheeled into the garage at 6:40 a.m. A group of guys were huddled around Lester who held his phone out for all to see. She could only imagine what they were ogling. As she exited her car they called out greetings to her. There was always speculation about her and the boss, and usually she was amused by it. The new guy, Jake, had left the group to walk with her toward the elevator and up to the fifth floor. He apparently hadn't gotten the keep away memo yet. Lula had said he had a crush on her and that gave her something to think about.

She'd been talking off the cuff when she'd told Ranger she might take on a Grace-like tutoring project, but maybe that wasn't such a silly idea. Jake seemed a likely prospect. There was a problem though. Jake didn't know her, but rather knew of her. If he'd been listening to Lester prattle on about their boss and her, Jake would think she was some kind of bedroom-wonder woman. She had a few years on Jake, but that didn't mean she had more experience. Good-looking guys started early, she thought, remembering a youthful Morelli. What would happen if she slept with Jake to expand his carnal knowledge base and she ended up being the student? It was possible. Hell, she didn't even own a copy of the Kama Sutra!

The sound of the bedroom door opening and Grace's soft footsteps on the lush carpet interrupted Stephanie's reverie. She looked up and made an effort not to frown at the sight. Grace was looking a little tired, but other than that it was hard to find fault. Did the woman never sweat? Did her clothes never wrinkle? Did she never age? Stephanie looked closely, but gave up wondering if she'd had surgical help. She suspected that Ranger's _the_ _body is a temple_ ideology had probably come from Grace, who obviously took very good care of herself.

"It is getting late in the afternoon," Grace told her and, surprised, Stephanie glanced at the clock to see Grace was correct. She'd been sitting and stewing about her personal life much longer than she realized.

"It is late," Stephanie agreed. "Time sort of got away from me. Let's get your bandages changed."

"I think I can do it," Grace said. "My hand is much better healed than even a few days ago. I have some flexibility now." She wiggled the fingers of the still partially bandaged hand.

"No problem for me to do it," Stephanie said. "I'm pretty quick at it … unless you'd rather do it yourself."

"No," Grace said. "I just made the offer, because I dislike being a burden. I have always fended for myself, and it is hard depending completely on others. It makes me feel … I cannot really explain it. I am grateful to be here, but I also cannot wait for this to be over."

"I understand," Stephanie said. "I'd feel the same way." She realized with an uneasy awareness that parts of her were very much like parts of Grace. She went to get the bandage supplies with her head buzzing from the thought.

She had strips of pre-torn tape dangling from the edge of the occasional table, and neatly folded squares of gauze stacked on the sofa cushion next to where Grace was sitting. Grace had casually pulled her tunic off and let it drop on the armchair before she'd made her way toward the sofa. Stephanie recognized the bra and knew the cost. She saved her money for La Perla lingerie the way Lula saved for Brahmin bags and Tieks ballet flats. Apparently, gentlemen's clubs were profitable businesses.

The shattering of glass and concurrent blasting of an alarm caused Stephanie to drop her bandaging supplies, which left Grace's wound exposed. Both women jumped to their feet. Grace stood statue-still while Stephanie lunged toward the table and retrieved her gun.

This is really bad, Stephanie thought, as a man burst into the living room from the master bedroom. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans, but his face was clearly visible. Although she hadn't seen the face of the man who'd knocked on the door the other day, she was pretty sure it was the same guy. He wasn't hiding his face, and that's what made it bad. It meant he didn't care if they saw him, because they wouldn't be around to identify him. But he wasn't very smart, because blood was dripping from a cut on his arm, presumably from breaking the window to get in. There would be DNA. They'd get him. Ranger would get this guy.

"You won't get away this time, bitch!" the man yelled. His voice was thin and reedy and he was talking fast, but there was still evidence of a southern accent. This had to be the guy they were supposed to be protecting Grace from. Steph had a moment's wonder at how he'd found them, and then she saw his arm raise, blood still running down the prominently veined forearm. His hand was shaking badly, but it appeared he had a tight hold on the gun he was pointing directly at Grace.

He's going to kill us! A part of her she didn't know existed took over. She slid toward Grace, and raised her weapon with one hand and with the other shoved Grace sideways as hard as she could. Grace stumbled and fell against the end table and landed in a heap on the floor. Gunshots rang out over the cacophony of the blaring alarm and Grace's screams. Stephanie saw the man's face contort and his mouth open as blood poured from it. He looked down and back up in surprise at Stephanie, and then he fell to the floor. She looked at the gun in her hand and loosened her grip. It slid from her fingers and landed with a soft thunk on the carpet between the man and Grace.

Stephanie tried to call out to tell Grace to stop screaming, but her voice wouldn't work. Her knees buckled and she slowly folded inward to land on the floor on top of her gun. It must be adrenaline making it so hard to breathe, she thought. It felt horrible. Maybe she didn't miss the adrenaline rushes after all. She lifted her head to see Grace trying to right herself. Grace was holding a hand to the side of her head, and blood was leaking out between her fingers.

Stephanie tried again, this time focusing hard to push air out. "Call 911," she gasped. "Phone. My purse." When she saw Grace nod, she turned her attention to the man on the floor. She thought he might be dead. Ranger would be happy. Her gun hadn't been in her purse this time. The adrenaline must be gone, because she was getting sleepy. It wouldn't hurt to take a nap…

…..

He didn't remember how he got to the hospital. He couldn't remember if he'd stopped at traffic signals, or exceeded the speed limits. As he walked under the canopy and into the emergency room, he didn't know if he'd locked the Porsche or even where he'd parked it. At least the keys in his hand told him he had turned the engine off. He needed to calm down.

Someone was dead and two women were injured. One critically. At least one _had_ been critically injured. Critical had a way of progressing to … dead. He stood still for a moment and willed himself to regain control. Slowly, he felt his body respond, and his fear fled back to the place where it could live and grow in secret while he functioned as if his heart wasn't breaking. He marched up to the desk.

"I'm Carlos Mañoso," he told the receptionist. "Two gunshot victims were brought in. They're my responsibility. What is their status?"

"Are you family?" the clerk asked. Before he could answer he heard his name.

"Carlos!" He spun around to see Grace being supported by Bobby. Her hair hung in disorder on her shoulders and she had a noticeable goose egg on her left temple. Blood was trickling down the left side of her face. A hospital gown hung loosely on her frame. It was stained with blood. "Carlos!" she repeated. "Stephanie ... she ... she has been shot."

He looked at Bobby. "Only Stephanie was shot?" he asked. "I thought both women were shot."

"Grace wasn't, Boss. Apparently, she has a healing wound that was reinjured. But Stephanie was shot. In the chest. I don't know much yet, but it's bad. It's so bad they haven't even checked Grace's injuries out yet. The trauma team is working on Stephanie. They're going to take her to surgery."

"Mr. Galloway, please!" They turned to look at a nurse holding open the door that led to the exam rooms. "You need to bring Mrs. Galloway back to the room."

Ranger raised an eyebrow at Bobby who shrugged and in a low voice explained, "I went back to find out what was going on. They tried to make me leave and Grace recognized the uniform. She told them I was her husband. I don't have all the details, but Grace told me the bare minimum, about her being in the safe house on Alameda."

"Mr. Galloway, bring my patient back before I have to call security!" At the nurse's insistence, Bobby turned and helped Grace back through the doors.

Ranger walked back to the desk. "I'm here for Stephanie Plum. And yes, I'm family."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 - Grace and Truth**

Night had descended on Trenton. Stephanie had been in surgery for hours. Ranger had called her parents and they'd come immediately, along with Steph's grandmother. Morelli had shown up within the hour, hearing about Stephanie's situation down at the precinct. Tank and Lester had arrived just after the cop had, finally finished with the on-site interrogation the officers had put them through. Sometime earlier, Bobby had left after seeing Grace safely tucked in a hospital bed. The doctors wanted to keep her overnight because of the severe jar to her head, but she wasn't badly injured. The rest of them were all waiting, just like he was.

As soon as he could, Ranger pulled Tank and Lester aside.

"What did you learn from the police? Who is the dead man?"

Tank shook his head. "I didn't get much new information. The police haven't been able to identify the dead man. He wasn't carrying anything on him, such as a wallet or other identifying information. It'll take time for the police to run his prints and photo through their databases. Until then, he's just a John Doe."

"I'm sure he's the man who attacked Grace in Savannah, and committed the murder she witnessed, but it's still just speculation on my part," Ranger said. "But I'll bet anything there's a relationship to Sheriff Jerry Don Miller." He related to Tank and Lester the details and his impressions about his meeting with Sheriff Miller. "I need you to find out everything about the sheriff, his personal and professional life, his family and friends, his financial situation, anything that might give us insight into the man," he requested.

Tank and Lester left to return to RangeMan while Ranger returned to the waiting room, only to be confronted by Joe Morelli.

"This is your fault, Mañoso," Joe accused, stepping in front of Ranger, his chest puffed out and a belligerent tone to his rant. "Stephanie is fighting for her life because of you. You're a danger to Stephanie, and a danger to the community. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Ranger was silent. He let Joe rage on, because he was right. He had no defense; Stephanie had been shot while working for him, protecting their client.

Morelli wouldn't let up. "She keeps walking away and you keep sucking her back in. She has no business being a bounty hunter, and certainly no business working for you. She doesn't know the first thing about firing a weapon, but you give her a job where she has to carry a gun. Not only that, but you put her directly in the bull's-eye of a murderer. You're a selfish bastard and you don't deserve her loyalty ... or anything else she may give you." Morelli glared at Ranger, his face so close, Ranger could smell the garlic on his breath.

Morelli wasn't wrong. He _was_ a bastard. Ranger felt he was to blame for Steph getting shot. He had left her alone with Grace. He should have had another employee with her, but he thought he had contained any leaks. He'd been wrong, and now he had to ferret out the source of that leak. He wouldn't stop until he found it. But that didn't help Stephanie now.

And then Steph's grandma surprised him. While Morelli was still blustering at him, she wrapped her gnarled fingers around his arm and dragged him out of the waiting room. She continued to lead him down the hall, until Ranger gently stopped her.

"I want to stay here. I need to stay here, in case there is any word on Stephanie," he said.

Grandma Mazur only nodded. "I know, but I think you could use some time away from ..." She tossed her head back toward the waiting room. Then she led him down the hall and into the chapel. It was quiet and cool, no one else was in there. She continued to lead him to one of the front pews and then sat down. Ranger remained standing until Edna patted the pew seat. With a sigh, he slid in beside her.

She patted his hand. "Stephanie will be okay. She's a fighter. She always has been. And ... she is doing what she wants to do. Don't let Joe Morelli make you think otherwise. My granddaughter isn't cut out for a 9-5 desk job, or any other job that doesn't give her the freedom to be who she is. She is a free spirit. She takes after me." She grinned and turned her head just enough for Ranger to see the twinkle in her eyes.

She went on. "The two of you have a special connection. I don't begin to understand it, and I don't know why you haven't snapped up my granddaughter yet. It's obvious that you are in love with her. And I don't think I'm breaking her confidence by telling you that she loves you, too."

She gave a deep sigh. "You're going to do whatever you want, but I think you're being a fool to keep her at arm's length. Let me tell you, from one old broad who sees just how short life can be. _Go for it!_ Stop dancing around your feelings. Grab life by the balls and live it to the fullest. Stop being so goddamn careful and in control." With that, she creaked to a stand and faced Ranger. Curling her forefinger against her thumb, she dinged Ranger sharply on his forehead and said, "Wake up, dammit! Live!" and then she made her way out of the chapel.

Ranger exhaled and rubbed his forehead. He had not been expecting that. He'd always said Stephanie came from a scary gene pool, but, for once, her grandmother had spoken sense. He looked up at the altar and closed his eyes.

When Tank had told him that both Grace and Steph had been shot at close range and that one was in critical condition, he'd had only one thought, Don't let it be Stephanie. He would have mourned Grace, if she had been killed. But he didn't think any amount of mourning would have been enough if he'd lost Stephanie. He looked back up at the altar and spent the next several minutes praying, something he hadn't done since ... the last time he'd almost lost her.

Flashes of memory flitted through his mind: Steph kidnapped and tortured by Abruzzi, Steph kidnapped and almost gang-raped by the Slayers, Steph kidnapped and stuffed into a kitchen cabinet by Stiva, Steph kidnapped and a bomb strapped to her by Scrog. And there'd been many other close calls. Ranger remembered the fear he felt each time, fear for her, but also fear for himself at the thought of losing her. Yet each time, when she was finally safe, he'd distanced himself from her. He'd told himself she was better off with someone else, even if that someone was Joe Morelli. That it was for the best, that he wasn't cut out for a longtime personal relationship with a woman, any woman.

How hypocritical! Isn't that what he had with Stephanie? They had known each other for several years now and he took every opportunity to get close to her, to sleep with her. He'd told himself it was just sex, and maybe it was, in the beginning. But sometime, somewhere, things had changed. He admitted that he had an emotional relationship with her, and normally that would have been the end of it, of them. He would have removed himself from any other woman's life, if that had been the case. Hadn't he done that with Grace, all those years ago?

Grace. Having her here, seeing Grace and Stephanie together—comparing—it all became clear. Crystal clear. Grace had meant the world to him at one time in his life, back when his world was small. But Stephanie, she had expanded his world, his depth of feeling for another human being. Nothing in his life compared to the emotion he felt for Stephanie, the emotion he had felt for her for years. The lyrics of an old song came to him, "That was a river, this is the ocean."

The wisdom of old ladies. Grandma Mazur's words rang in his ears. _Stop dancing around your feelings. Grab life by the balls and live it to the fullest. Stop being so goddamn careful and in control. Wake up, dammit! Live!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15** \- **There but for Grace, Go I**

It was close to midnight when the surgeon approached their little group. "Ms. Plum came through surgery, but not without some difficulties," he said. "She required a transfusion of several units of blood due to a massive hemorrhage before she was stable enough for surgery. The bullet, a .22 by the way, penetrated her right lung. There was severe trauma to the surrounding tissue. Fortunately, her ribs weren't hit and there were no bone fragments to contend with. The paramedics intubated her to help her breathe, and that helped her survive until we could get her into surgery. I was able to repair her lung and extract the bullet. She is on a ventilator right now, but we hope to remove it tomorrow. She also has a thoracostomy tube, a chest tube, to suction out any blood or other fluid that accumulates in the chest cavity. That will be removed as soon as her lung can stay inflated and function on its own. We have started her on a round of antibiotics. Right now, she is in recovery, but will be moved to ICU soon."

There was a flurry of questions from her parents, who were obviously worried about their daughter. The surgeon was able to answer their concerns and allay most of their fears. And Grandma Mazur was her usual self, asking if she could have the bullet they'd taken from Steph's body. She would be the center of attention at every social function in the Burg for years, if she had the bullet that nearly killed her granddaughter. The doctor finally convinced them all to go home, as Stephanie would sleep through the night.

They all left, except for Ranger. When Stephanie was moved into the ICU, he talked the night nurse into letting him stay in her room. She was sleeping, and heavily sedated. There was a breathing tube down her throat, another tube in her chest, an IV in her right arm, and other wires attached to her and then connected to humming and beeping machines. She looked lost amid all the tubes and wires. Ranger sat there all night, staring at her, willing her to fight. He held her left hand and found himself unable to break that physical connection, as if his energy was keeping her alive.

He didn't sleep; all he could think about was Stephanie. About when they first met. About all the times he'd come to her rescue, and then, all the times she'd come to his. It was because of her bravery that his daughter was still alive, that he was still alive. He valued loyalty, and Steph had proven hers over and over again. As for love, the signs had been there all along, but his stubbornness, his fixation on his long-term plan, had kept him from seeing it, or at least acknowledging it. And now, once again, she was fighting for her life. He lifted her hand to his lips and held it there, staring into her face.

When the nurse came in early the next morning, she insisted he leave the room. The doctor was coming in to check on her, and would probably remove the breathing tube. Visitors couldn't be there. Reluctantly, he released Stephanie's hand and backed out of the room. He didn't go far. He found Grace's room and sat in there until she woke.

As her eyes fluttered open, he asked, "How are you, Grace?"

It took her a moment to come around, and then she smiled, a little tremulously. "Carlos." She reached for his hand and held it with both of hers. Again, a little tremulously, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. Gently, he extricated his hand and shifted his body slightly, away from the bed.

"It is a miracle that I am here," she said and then shook her head. "No, that is not right. I am still alive because of Stephanie. When that man broke into the house and pointed a gun at me, I froze. But Stephanie was so brave. She saved my life, and put her own life in danger because of me. She is amazing, Carlos."

Ranger nodded. Stephanie was indeed amazing, he silently agreed. "She did her job. I would expect nothing less than that from her."

"She was shot because of _me_ ," Grace cried. "She did more than just her job. I want to see her. I want to thank her."

Ranger shook his head. "She hasn't woken up from surgery yet. She's still in the ICU."

"Oh my, she is still in danger, isn't she?" Grace said, her voice just a whisper. "This is all my fault."

"No, Grace. You came to me for protection. We all understood what the potential danger was. Stephanie knew what might happen."

"No, you do not understand, Carlos. I did something..." she wavered, and looked away. "I ... I knew I was not supposed to make any phone calls..." Ranger sat up straight, staring intensely at Grace. She spoke quickly, "I did not make any calls. I ... I only checked my messages, just once."

He kept staring and then said slowly, his voice low and dangerous, "You turned on your phone, after I told you not to use it?"

"You said not to make any _calls_. And I did not. I just ... I just wanted to listen to my messages. I was lonely and I missed my life, and friends, in Savannah. I am so sorry."

Ranger clenched his jaw, trying to control his anger. He stood up and walked over to the window, looking out onto the street and buildings below.

"Carlos..." Grace began, but Ranger held up his hand and she immediately stopped. The long interval of silence became deafening.

When he finally spoke, he didn't light into Grace. What would be the point? "That had to be it. Someone traced your phone through its geographic locator."

"What is that?" she asked, frowning.

Ranger knew that some larger law enforcement agencies, and federal agencies, had that capability. He made a mental note to have Tank hack into Sheriff Miller's phone records and see if he had contacted anyone who would have access to cell phone tracking programs.

"Grace, the man Stephanie shot, is he the man who attacked you in Savannah?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "He did not have a beard then, but it was the same man. The police ... they asked me lots of questions yesterday, but I was so upset, I could not think clearly. They said they would come by today."

Ranger nodded. "Cooperate with them. Tell them everything. Is the man Stephanie shot also the one you witnessed committing that murder?"

"Yes. I am sure he is also the man who murdered that drug dealer."

"But you don't know who he is? His name? Anything else?"

She shook her head. "No, I do not know who he is. I just know he tried to kill me twice now. I am glad he is dead. Does that make me an awful person?"

"No. It makes you a sane person," Ranger replied. "One who wants to live without having to look over her shoulder the rest of her life."

"Thank you for saying that. I just want my life back."

"You'll be released from the hospital today, but I don't think you should return to Savannah just yet. The police need to identify this man and make sure he acted alone. You'll stay at RangeMan for the time being."

"Does that mean I will be staying with you?" Grace practically purred.

"We'll both be at the RangeMan building, but you will have your own apartment, and I will have mine," he clarified. "You'll be free to come and go as you please. No safe house any longer. And as soon as this case is resolved and the police are done with their investigation, you will return to Savannah, and your life there." He looked meaningfully at her.

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Carlos?" she asked, a slight grin pulling her mouth up.

There was a lengthy pause before he said anything. "I'm grateful for this time we've had together, Grace. It helped me put things in perspective. But what we had was in the past, and it will stay in the past. I'm a different person now. Again, I will always be grateful to you for everything you have done for me. But it's time for both of us to move on with our lives."

"Well said, my dear. I, too, have been glad for this time together. And I am happy if I was able to, once again, put perspective into your life." She returned Ranger's meaningful look when she told him, "I hope that perspective includes putting Stephanie front and center in your life. She is a worthy partner for you, Carlos, in more ways than one." Her grin widened into a full-blown smile.

Ranger smiled back, and then leaned over and kissed her cheek.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 - In My Good Graces**

It surprised her a little, the amount of excitement she felt at pushing the door open and walking into the bonds office. Lula and Connie were deep in conversation, but both looked up with beaming smiles when they saw her. It had been two months since she'd brought in a skip for Vinnie, and it might be yet another two months until she was completely medically cleared, but she was tired of being an invalid. The doctor had finally released her for light duty, now that her lung had healed enough for her to breathe normally. She knew there would be something she could do, even if it was catching up Lula's neglected filing.

"Welcome back!" Lula exclaimed. She hoisted her hip off Connie's desk and came forward to give her friend a big hug.

"You should have called," Connie said. "We'd have bought donuts."

Stephanie smiled and moved her hand from behind her back to show the brown bag she was holding. "My treat, ladies." She opened the bag and extracted a Boston Crème before she handed the bag to Lula.

"I didn't know you was well enough to come back yet," Lula said, taking a big bite out of a chocolate-covered donut.

"I'm not quite a hundred percent," Stephanie admitted, "but I'm bored. Since you've taken over the bond enforcement, I thought maybe I could do some of your filing, if that would help."

"Damn skippy!" Lula exclaimed. "Me and Cal have been so busy I haven't done much filing at all."

"That's the truth," Connie agreed. "Lula has been busy with Cal, and not all during work hours, if you know what I mean."

"She knows what you mean," Lula said. "And I have to say it's the truth. That's one fine man, and not that I don't want you to be healthy and back to work an' all, but working with Cal has been mighty enjoyable."

Stephanie licked a blob of crème off her finger and went to retrieve another donut. "Ranger said he thought Cal was enjoying his time away from RangeMan. Maybe Vinnie should hire him on a permanent basis."

"Say what?" Lula's voice rose in astonishment. "You ain't thinking of quittin', are you?"

"I don't want to think of it," Stephanie said, not wanting to say anything yet that she'd been looking into other jobs and possibly moving to another city. "I'm still a little ways from chasing fleeing skips." Unconsciously, she put her hand over the still healing scar underneath her right breast. "It could be a while before I'm totally back."

"Do you need to make some money?" Connie asked. "If you do Lula's filing, we'll pay you an hourly wage."

"No, I'm doing okay, money-wise. RangeMan took care of all my medical bills, and … I got combat pay."

"Fuckin' A, you did! And you deserved it. I imagine your medical bill ain't all Ranger's taking care of. I hear Ranger's been spending quite a bit of time at your apartment."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. She understood how the gossip mill worked at RangeMan. Ranger had visited her at her apartment, but the visits had been completely platonic, at least on his part. She sometimes fantasized that he'd sweep her up and carry her into the bedroom, but he never did. It was as if he was walking on eggshells around her. She'd heard through the RangeMan grapevine—from Lester that Grace had gone back to Savannah, and she knew—from Tank that Ranger had been to Savannah twice in the last month. There were loose ends to tie up, but she wondered if he was also tightening up loose ends of his relationship with Grace.

"Ranger and I aren't together, if that's what you're asking," she told Lula. "He feels like he put me in bad situation in that safe house and he's making sure I'm doing okay. That's all there is to it." Ranger had been with her every day in the hospital, and he'd taken her to all her doctor appointments and respiratory therapy sessions after she returned home, but otherwise, he'd kept his distance from her.

"What did happen in that safe house?" Lula asked. She grabbed the bag, looked inside and handed it to Stephanie. "There's one donut left and you're skin and bones. Your jeans are just hanging off your skinny ass. You got to get back into working shape. Eat up and tell us what really went on over there."

It was true, she'd lost weight, and a third donut did sound good, so she took the donut and told Connie and Lula the whole story.

"So the leak was Grace? She put not only herself but also you in danger just because she wanted to check her voicemail? I bet Ranger was hot!" Connie said.

"Well, that's the thing," Stephanie said. "Ranger wasn't that upset. I mean he was upset that I was shot, but he understood that Grace didn't know that it would cause trouble." Stephanie took in a deep breath and poured out her heart to her two friends. "Grace and Ranger used to be together, a long time ago. I think he still has feelings for her."

"Whaddaya mean, together?" Lula demanded. "You don't mean _together_ together _._ Cal says she's old enough to be Ranger's mama."

"Have you _seen_ her?" Stephanie asked. "She doesn't look like any mother I know. She's the kind of woman that likes men … and men seem to like her. Her age somehow adds to her allure."

"I don't like her already," Connie said.

"But you would," Stephanie countered. "If you met her you would like her. She's smart and funny, and very kind. I liked her immediately, and it was obvious there was something between her and Ranger."

"It's obvious there is something between you and Ranger, if you ask me," Lula said. "Cal said all the guys at RangeMan know you are off limits. Cal had to have a talk with Jake 'cause Jake was always talking like he'd like to make a move on you, but Cal told him Ranger'd kill him if he did, and then he'd put him on monitor duty for a year."

"I'm not interested in Jake," Stephanie said, remembering she'd considered taking Jake as a lover. It seemed like a childish thing to have done, to taunt Ranger with that possibility, and it hadn't worked in any case. Ranger had been polite and solicitous, but he hadn't made one move on her since she'd gotten home from the hospital.

Her phone rang and she pulled it from her bag, grimacing when she saw the caller ID. "Hi, Tank. What can I do for you?"

"I need you to sign some FMLA paperwork. Is there any possibility you could swing by RangeMan today?" Steph had talked to Tank on the phone several times, but she hadn't been to the RangeMan offices since she'd left the hospital. She wasn't looking forward to going there today.

"FMLA?"

"Family and Medical Leave Act. You qualify because you were working full-time when you were injured. If you sign these papers you'll get back pay from the time of your injury."

"I don't need that," Stephanie protested.

"You deserve it. Ranger wants you to have it."

"And Ranger always gets what Ranger wants." She sighed. She heard Tank sigh on the other end of the line.

"Ranger doesn't always get what he wants," Tank muttered. "Come sign the papers. Also, I have a note here for you from Ranger. He left early this morning for Atlanta."

"Atlanta? That makes a change from Savannah," she said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "Okay, I'll be over in about an hour." She disconnected and turned back to Connie and Lula. "Enough about me and Ranger and all the men he'll kill if they look at me." She stopped to roll her eyes. "Let me hear the down and dirty on Cal."

Lula's eyes brightened and her grin spread from ear to ear, "Well …"

An hour later, Stephanie was still shaking her head in amazement at the things Lula had told her. She pulled her car into the first open slot she found in the garage and hurried up to meet with Tank. She didn't want to sign papers, and she didn't want money from RangeMan, but sometimes it was easier to give in than to fight a battle she knew she'd lose eventually.

Stephanie hesitated at the door of Tank's office when she saw he was on the phone. He saw her and motioned her in. As she sat in the chair facing his desk he pushed a paper toward her. One large square-tipped finger pointed at a signature line. She picked up a pen, signed her name and then stood to leave, hardly believing her luck. She was going to get in and out of RangeMan without having to talk to Tank. Why she was loath to talk to him was something she wasn't clear about. He intimidated her, he always had, and she wasn't in the mood to get a dressing down for letting their client be injured.

She almost made it to the door when Tank disconnected and said, "Don't go. I have a note here from Ranger. He's in Atlanta, as I told you, giving a deposition to our lawyers there."

"A deposition? Is this about the sheriff?" she asked. Her curiosity had her turning back.

"Yeah, it is. Have a seat," Tank instructed as he continued. "The sheriff has been arrested and charged by the Savannah Chadwick Metropolitan Police Department, thanks in part to the information RangeMan was able to provide. But he's pleading not guilty. They have a good case against Miller. If he goes to trial they'll convict him. He's the county sheriff and he didn't report a murderer, even if it was his own son. It's obvious he was withholding evidence to protect that SOB. And he's the one that told his son where he was keeping Grace in protective custody in Savannah, enabling that murdering bastard to attempt to kill her so she couldn't testify against him. They also now know who the sheriff's informant was—the woman who tracked Grace's phone, I mean. We discovered that she was an information technology specialist for the FBI."

"Why don't they arrest her?" Stephanie asked.

"They have arrested her. The DA wants to put pressure on Miller to take a plea for a lesser charge. She's been charged, but if they could get Sheriff Jerry Don Miller to testify against her it would strengthen their case. They're willing let ole Jerry Don cop to a lower plea hoping that not only will it ensure a conviction of the FBI IT Specialist, but also avoid a trial for him."

"I feel sorry for him," Stephanie said.

"Who, the sheriff?"

"Yeah, the sheriff. He just lost his son. I killed him."

"Fuck! You're not having guilt over that?"

"No, not guilt, but ... I killed his son, and he …"

"…he broke laws, Stephanie. He withheld evidence. He protected a murderer. He used county money to hire an informant. He did all that to help his son find Grace. Sheriff Jerry Don not only broke the law to keep his son from being caught, he enabled him to attempt to murder Grace … and you!"

Stephanie felt strangely vulnerable at the realization someone tried to kill Grace and her in cold blood. She decided Tank had a point. "How's Ranger involved?" she asked.

"Ranger talked to the sheriff who was uncooperative. RangeMan staff also talked to other local law enforcement personnel who expressed frustration and lack of cooperation from the sheriff. Ranger was on his way back from Savannah the day you were shot. Do you remember?" Stephanie nodded. "We also did a lot of investigative work, which we turned over to the police department. Our attorneys think if they depose Ranger, he won't have to go back on the off chance there is a trial, and they think they can use his statement to put pressure on ole Jerry Don."

Silence fell in the office and once again Stephanie started to rise to leave. Tank stopped her with his words. "I wanted to tell you how impressed we all were when we heard how you protected Grace. It was a courageous thing, to place yourself in harm's way. And...," Tank made a gun-shape with his hand and pointed it at her, "good shooting."

"I, uh, thanks." Stephanie shrugged her shoulders slightly and then winced at a random pain the shrug caused. "I was just doing my job."

"That's right. You were," Tank agreed. "But it still took a lot of bravery to step in front of Grace, and a bullet."

Stephanie smiled. "I didn't step in front of her so much as knock her halfway across the room. I didn't realize my own strength, I guess."

"Adrenaline," Tank said. "How are you recovering? Getting shot is a bitch. I know." Again Stephanie smiled. She'd been with Tank when he'd been shot. It was back when she was a newbie and really hadn't known what she was doing. Maybe that's why she'd always been uncomfortable around him. She felt guilty. Tank wasn't acting like he held her accountable though. He was grinning at her as he stood from the desk chair. His hands were at the waist of his pants.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"What!" she cried.

"Scars. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Uh…"

"I'm teasing you, Stephanie." She smiled yet another time. He reached out to her and she noticed the white envelope in his hand. "Ranger wanted me to give this to you. He said it was important."

She took the note and thanked him and made her way down to the garage and into her car. She stared at the unaddressed envelope for a long moment and felt the little hairs at the back of her neck spring erect. One slow deep breath and then another. She slid her finger under the sealed edge to find out what Ranger had to say.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 - Days of Grace**

As the seal on the envelope opened, a smaller envelope fell out into her lap. There was nothing written on the outside, but it was sealed, too. Inside the original envelope was a piece of paper. Steph pulled it out and unfolded it to reveal the bold script she recognized as Ranger's. Her fingers trembled a little as she began reading.

 _Babe,_

 _I know the doctor released you for light duty and I know you are eager to get back to work, but I have another suggestion. What you went through while under RangeMan employ was frightening, at best, and traumatic, at worst. It is in your best interest, and RangeMan's, to allow yourself to recover completely and thoroughly. With that in mind, I have enclosed something to help you do just that. Use it in good health,_

 _RCM_

Steph's brows scrunched up as she read Ranger's puzzling letter. What did he mean? She grabbed the second envelope and tore it open. Inside were two pieces of paper. One was a plane ticket, a round trip ticket for one from Newark to Savannah. Great! Just where she wanted to go. She could visit Grace. Maybe Ranger would be there, too. They could have a threesome, a ménage a trois. Steph rubbed her forehead. She was developing a headache.

She looked at the other piece of paper. The letterhead said Hilton Head Resort. That made her sit up and read with more interest. It was a reservation confirmation to the resort, a five-star resort at that, right on the beach. The reservation was in her name and it was for two weeks at one of their beachfront suites, with a private patio, room service, and all expenses paid.

Slowly, a smile stretched across her face. Her headache was disappearing. Room service—one of her three favorite things in the whole wide world. She could just imagine herself, lounging around a sparkling pool or on the beach, a hunky cabana boy bringing her drinks and snacks whenever she waved her hand, the warm sun turning her pasty white skin to a golden brown.

She kept reading. The reservation included a town car that would pick her up at the airport and drop her off at the resort. She also had daily admittance to the on-site spa that including a selection of massages, body treatments, facials, manicures, pedicures, aromatherapy and wax treatments. She could even opt for a total beauty makeover. Each and every service she chose would be automatically billed to her suite. And according to Ranger, this was all in the name of improving her health.

Two wonderful, stress-free weeks on Hilton Head Island at a luxury resort and it wouldn't cost her a dime. It started as a low chuckle. The chuckle turned into a laugh that rolled into a deep-down belly laugh. Within seconds, she had her arms folded across her stomach trying to contain the laughter, because her chest still hurt, but she couldn't stop laughing. She had tears of happiness rolling down her cheeks. It took several minutes, but finally the laughter slowed down and she could catch her breath. She hadn't laughed in two months. It felt good. She sighed deeply.

She'd go. She deserved it! And she would have the time of her life. Hell, she might even meet someone, someone she could have a vacation fling with. Wouldn't that be something? Room service, lounging on a sunny beach, and guilt-free sex with a mystery man, for two glorious weeks. That was two of her favorite things. Throw in some birthday cake and she'd be three for three. And the uninterrupted time there would give her time to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. After everything that had happened, it was time to change things up, time to take charge of her life.

She glanced down at the reservation again. Her vacation started tomorrow! Oh my gosh! She had a million things to do before then.

...

Carrying nothing but her purse, Steph stepped through the airplane doors and out onto the ramp that led into the Savannah Hilton Head International Airport. She had checked two bags in Newark and was heading for baggage claim, but saw a man in a chauffeur's uniform holding a sign with her name scrawled across it. She approached him.

"I'm Stephanie Plum," she announced to him.

"Welcome to Georgia, Ms. Plum," he replied, smiling. "I'm Tom, your chauffeur for the day. In just a few minutes of travel time, I'll welcome you to South Carolina and then to Hilton Head Island."

She smiled back. "That's sounds wonderful, Tom. Please, call me Stephanie. But before we leave, could we get my luggage from baggage claim?"

"Of course. If you'll give me your ticket, I'll get your bags for you and then we can be off."

The drive to the resort only took forty-five minutes, and Tom gave her a rolling tour, complete with lots of historic information of the sites they saw along the way. When they drove through the expansive grounds leading to the resort and Stephanie glimpsed the hotel's portico, Stephanie gasped loudly.

"It's impressive, isn't it?" Tom said, appreciative of her nonverbal expression of awe.

"Impressive doesn't do it justice," she replied. "This place is huge. It looks more like a palace than a hotel."

"The resort sits on twenty acres of oceanfront property," Tom informed her. "All of it has been magnificently landscaped, with tropical gardens, wandering bike paths, gazebos, fountains, five pools, twelve outdoor hot tubs, tennis, basketball, and volleyball courts, and a championship golf course. The resort has five restaurants, both casual and formal, a nightclub, a market, a gift shop, a fitness center and a full service spa. There is private access to the best stretch of white sugar sand beach on the entire island. The resort also offers beachside cabanas, and canoe, kayak and bicycle rentals."

"That sounds great," Steph exclaimed. "I don't think I'll be bored. Thank you, Tom, for such a pleasant and informative ride. I can't wait to see everything."

Tom opened her car door for her, and she was immediately greeted by a bellhop who took her bags into the palatial lobby. Check-in took only a few minutes and then she was escorted to her suite. The size and opulence of her accommodations had her gasping again. Her suite was bigger than her entire apartment, make that two of her apartments. There was a living room with an adjacent kitchen and dining room, a separate bedroom with a king-sized bed and a sitting area, and a luxury bathroom at least as large as the bedroom. A wrap-around balcony with unobstructed views of the Atlantic Ocean was accessible from both the living room and the bedroom.

Steph's head was spinning. She couldn't believe her good fortune. But then again, it was Ranger who had arranged all this for her. His guilt over her getting shot must be tremendous. He didn't have to do this, she grinned, but I'm so glad he did. She flopped down on the bed and luxuriated in the expensive bed linens. Reaching over, she grabbed the room service menu off the nightstand and gave a loud moan. The menu included everything from pancakes to cheeseburgers to Lobster Thermidor. And there was one entire page of desserts. She let out another moan reading the list of sweets. She crawled up the bed to lean back against the headboard, and plopped the room's phone on her lap.

"Room Service? This is Room 210. I'd like to place an order..."

A girl could get used to this.

...

Steph stretched her arms above her head, and tensed and released her muscles before melting back into the comfy lounge chair. She gave a quick tug to adjust her bikini top, and then picked up the tall glass her personal waiter, Chip, had just delivered. She'd found out Chip was from Jersey and they had quickly become fast friends. She was on her second Cuba Libre, in honor of Ranger.

It was her second day in paradise and she wasn't wasting a minute of it. After a sumptuous breakfast in bed, she'd spent the morning in the spa, getting a makeover, a massage, a mani/pedi, and a bikini wax. She'd considered going for the full Brazilian, but couldn't quite drum up the courage. Then she'd gone down to one of the sparkling pools and claimed one of the cabanas. With a flick of her wrist, she'd summoned a waiter, who promptly brought her the lunch of her choice, and that's when she learned all about Chip. He was now keeping her stocked with her favorite drink and the occasional snack. With each new service, all she had to do was say, "Charge it to Room 210." Life was good!

She was nearly asleep when ... she felt it. A slow tingle at the base of her neck. She opened her eyes and a shadow blocked her view of the ocean. Putting her hand against her brow, she squinted and looked up. Yep, it was him!


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 - The Gift of Grace**

At least she thought it was him. Her spidey senses were telling her it was Ranger. But her eyes were having a harder time. The man in front of her looked like Ranger, except there wasn't one piece of black clothing on him. He was wearing cream-colored linen, and he was wearing it well.

"Ranger?" she questioned. Half wondering if in fact it was the same man she knew, and half wondering what he was doing here in Hilton Head, standing quietly, looking down at her on the lounger. He pulled a chair closer and sat beside her.

"Mind some company?"

"No, I don't mind," she said. She sat up and immediately placed a hand across her breasts. She'd untied the bikini top to avoid tan lines and in her haste to sit, she'd momentarily forgotten. Fortunately, the top held and she didn't expose herself. As she went to move her hand away, the rough line of her new scar rippled under her fingertips, and she left her hand there to cover the scar.

Ranger reached out and pulled her hand away. He bent closer, inspecting the surgeon's work. "I'm sorry," Stephanie said. "It's ugly, but the doctor said it will fade in time."

"Don't apologize, Babe. You came by it honestly and courageously. But it is true," Ranger said. "The physical scars will fade. The one on your ass is hardly noticeable any longer."

"You haven't seen my ass in a while," Stephanie said defensively. "Maybe you've forgotten what it looks like."

"It hasn't been that long," Ranger said. "And I've forgotten nothing about your ass." He reached out and let his fingers slide through a tangle of soft curls as he pushed a recalcitrant strand behind her ear.

"That scar was easier to hide than this one," Stephanie said. She shook her head to dislodge the recently confined curl.

"So, don't hide it. It's a badge of honor." His hand once again pushed the hair away. This time he let his fingers slide around her ear and under the curve of her chin. He tilted her head up so he could look at her face more directly.

Steph stared back. "Badge of honor my as... uh, foot!" she snorted. "More of a reminder that I didn't do my job right."

"Stephanie!" He let a hint of his irritation slide through. "It's a reminder that you did your job exactly right. You know how the safe house was breached?"

"Yeah," she said. "I was at the briefing. Grace turned her phone on and someone caught the ping and was able to zero in on her location."

"That's right. I was on duty when she did it, so if anyone didn't do their job right, it was me. Grace didn't realize she was compromising her safety, and yours, when she did it, not that her ignorance absolves her. She feels very badly about what happened to you; she knows she can't make it right, but she wanted to do something. That's why she gifted you with this vacation."

"Grace gave me this? I thought … I mean, the note you sent…"

"I sent the note, but it was Grace's idea for you to come here. She thought you'd enjoy it."

"I _am_ enjoying it. And she gave you a gift, too? … Is that why you're here?" she asked, haltingly.

"What am I seeing in your eyes? Are you wondering if, in spite of what I've told you, there is something between me and Grace?"

"It's none of my business if there's anything between you and Grace, or if you visit Savannah."

"The hell it isn't," Ranger said. "I brought you into a situation and everything that has happened because of that situation is your business. Babe, the only reason I've been to Savannah is to meet with the police department, to provide them with the information RangeMan uncovered from our investigation of the sheriff. As for Grace, she knows you had a difficult recovery and now that you're feeling better, she wanted you to have some relaxing time here. It is one of her favorite places to get away from things. She is appreciative, to say the least, that you saved her life. She feels guilty because she's responsible for all your pain and suffering. She can well afford this gift, and she could afford to gift me time here as well. But she didn't. I'm here because ... because you are here. I made my own reservations."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." Ranger was smiling. He'd seen the doubt in her eyes when he told her of Grace's gift, and he'd seen the spark of joy when he'd told her it was his decision to be here.

"May I take you to dinner tonight?" Ranger asked. "The resort has a five-star open-air restaurant. I have a table reserved."

"That would be great," she said and then frowned. "Just the two of us?"

Ranger nodded, a twitch pulling at his mouth.

Her frown remained. "But I wasn't planning on anything like that. I didn't pack anything remotely appropriate to wear."

"That's easily remedied. There will be a delivery to your room later this afternoon. I'll be at your room at seven."

"All right. I'm in Room…" He leaned in and covered her mouth with his, as he let his fingers run the length of her scar to the point it disappeared beneath her bikini top. It was the first time he'd kissed her in over two months. It had the expected result. She was speechless.

He pulled back and bent his head to trace the path of her scar with his lips. When he looked up at her his smile was wide. "You're in Room 210. I'll see you at seven." He rose from the chair and moved it back to its original position, and turned and walked away and out of view around the corner of her cabana.

…..

The knock on her door came at five. She'd showered and was wrapped in a soft terry robe, wondering what she'd do if there was no delivery. She figured Ranger had called Ella and had her do her magic, long distance. She was excited to see what she'd be wearing. Maybe more excited than if she'd shopped for herself. Ella's taste was impeccable, and she had Stephanie's size down pat. And then Steph frowned. She'd lost a lot of weight and Ella hadn't seen her since she'd been injured.

There were several boxes. The first contained matching panties and a bra. The champagne-colored silk panties skimmed up over her hips easily and she had a moment's regret that she hadn't gone for the full Brazilian. She thought about it again and shook her head. She'd made the right decision. The matching bra also fit like a glove and they were exactly her taste. She remembered Grace saying what a marvel Ella was and Stephanie couldn't have agreed more.

The next box contained a blue gown that fell softly from her shoulders to just above her ankles. The neckline was as high in front as it was low in the back. No part of her scar was visible. Ranger had said it was a badge of honor, and she wasn't so vain that she couldn't let it show, but for right now, it was too new and she felt more confident with it hidden. The blue of the dress matched her eyes perfectly and the fit was superb. Score two for Ella!

With a growing excitement, she opened the last box. The heels of the red-soled silver sandals were impossibly high and impossible not to love.

Stephanie slid the dress off and put her robe back on. She took her time, applying makeup and taming her curls. She put perfume at her pulse points and just a touch at her cleavage. A lightning bolt of fire shot from her nipples and settled low in her belly at the thought of Ranger inhaling the soft fragrance between her breasts.

When she put the dress back on and slipped her feet into the Louboutin's, it was almost seven. She rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, under her carefully coiffed curls. She turned to the door of her room. Ranger must be outside.

"You look beautiful, Babe." She spun to see Ranger. The previously locked door to the connecting suite was wide open and Ranger stood in the doorway.

"What, how?" she sputtered.

"A fortunate happenstance. I have the suite next to yours. I thought I'd use the connecting door."

"But it was locked. In fact, the door looked like it had been sealed. I checked it for safety when I got here. How'd you get in?"

"Babe." His grin was so self-satisfied, she rolled her eyes.

"Look," she told him as she spun around, "at the fabulous job Ella did!"

"Ella does a fabulous job," he agreed, "but I picked out your outfit tonight. I'm glad you like it. There is one more piece, though." He walked toward her and held out his hand. A platinum chain dangled from it. There was a small diamond-covered S in the center of the chain. "You used to wear a necklace something like this when we first met. I always liked it."

"Yes, I did" she said, "but nothing as nice as this one. And I lost that one when Stiva kidnapped me."

Ranger stepped behind her and fastened the necklace. He leaned in close as his hands easily worked the clasp. "Don't lose this one." His lips grazed the back of her neck and his words ruffled flyaway curling wisps. "Let's go to dinner and see what the night brings."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 - Dinner with Grace**

Stephanie kept glancing around the open-air patio – at the opulence of the restaurant, the tiny sparkling lights that lit up the darkened corners, and the incredible 180-degree view of the ocean, with its white-capped waves lapping up on the beach. Dinner had been wonderful, and dessert had left her moaning in gastronomic ecstasy. Everything about this vacation was so far out of her normal life, she wasn't sure how to react. And then her gaze settled on the man sitting across the table from her. She exhaled slowly and relaxed.

Ranger always made her heart race and he could stir up butterflies in her stomach just with a look, but she always felt good when she was with him. Tonight, he was dressed to the nines in a stunning black tux and looked so elegant, but he was sitting casually. He was leaning to the left, an elbow on the chair arm and his jaw resting on the backs of his fingers, staring at her. Steph squirmed as his gaze intensified.

"Do I have something in my teeth?" she asked, swirling her tongue over her front teeth.

Ranger shook his head. "You do have something, though," he replied.

"What?" she exclaimed, rubbing her hand across her mouth, then did the same with the fancy cloth napkin the waiter had draped across her lap earlier. "Did I get it?"

Ranger chuckled. "I didn't mean you have something on your face, Babe. I meant you have some indefinable quality that makes me want to study you, decipher what it could be that attracts me so strongly to you."

She ducked her head, and blushed furiously. Ranger was always kind to her and he did pay her compliments, but this seemed like an entire step above his normal flattery. It was late and most other diners had left the patio. She and Ranger were lingering over their after dinner drinks: Ranger was sipping a hard to pronounce fifty-year-old single malt whiskey and he'd ordered her a Calvados.

The entire evening had been one elegant surprise after another, and she felt incredibly pampered and special. Since the shooting, Ranger had been very attentive to her, but in a hands-off kind of way. Now, that was changing. Ranger was very hands-on tonight. And she was okay with that. Even if was just all about the sex for him. She could do with some vacation sex. She would worry about what came later ... later.

She compared this to a night out with Joe, at Pino's with meatball subs and a fine three-month-old bottle of Coke. She practically snorted. There was no comparison. But she also realized she liked a casual dinner at a greasy diner, too. This was wonderful for a change, and she loved getting dressed up, but she also liked being able to go out to dinner in her jeans and a t-shirt. She had another epiphany. With Joe, all she would ever have was Pino's. With Ranger, she would have both, the casual and the elegant. And the in-between. Ranger was one versatile guy.

She thought back to when they'd first met, in that tiny diner in east Trenton. Ranger had looked more like a thug, in the way he dressed and talked. Urban ghetto chic. But that was years ago. Now, he always looked like an upscale businessman, in the way he dressed, talked and in his bearing. He'd grown up over the years. With a start, she realized she had, too. In a way, they'd grown up together. And now, he was talking about being attracted to her. That wasn't new, but the way he was looking at her was. She was used to seeing lust in his eyes, but tonight there was also intrigue, and fascination.

"What are you saying, Ranger?" she asked with a rueful grin. "Are you hinting that you want to go back to the room and ... you know?"

"I always want to ... you know," he grinned unabashedly, "but I was talking about something more than that. Stephanie," he said, reaching across the table to hold her hand, "You have had power over me from the first day I met you, and it has only grown stronger with time. As you know, I don't do well when I'm not in control, and you are the one person who can make me lose control."

Steph's eyes widened. His confession shocked her. Ranger was _always_ in control. Or so she thought. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, at least not right now. I have some things I want to say to you, though. Why don't we take a walk on the beach?" He stood up and held his hand out to her.

When they stepped off the patio and onto the sand, Steph reached down and slipped off her sandals and looped the straps in her fingers. Ranger held her other hand and they strolled down to the water's edge. There was a full moon and though it was late at night and they were too far away from any building to be caught in their light, it was bright enough to see any driftwood or obstacles in their path. They walked slowly along the beach, hand in hand, enjoying the warm night air and the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the shoreline.

"It's so much quieter down here than at the beaches in Jersey," Steph observed, not seeing anyone else on the beach. It was as if they were in their own private world. "Not as many people. I'll have to send Grace a thank you for this relaxing vacation. Or..." she delved, "if you will be seeing her soon, I guess I could just give you my thank you letter and you could give it to her personally?"

Ranger's mouth twitched. "I won't be seeing Grace anytime soon. My involvement in her legal case is over, and I have no reason, absolutely no reason, to see her again."

Steph smiled to herself. She needed to hear that, though she knew she had no right to be jealous if Ranger was seeing other women. They weren't in a relationship, after all. They just had sex occasionally. She hoped tonight would be one of those occasions.

"You never disappoint, Babe," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Almost losing you has brought some things to the forefront, things I can no longer ignore. Like how much I depend on you, lean on you, trust you. I know I can ask you for anything and you will always be there. You've never let me down."

Steph wanted to protest that it wasn't so. She seemed to disappoint everyone else. To have him say that to her left her speechless.

"You have consistently shown your courage, your determination, your intelligence and problem-solving in difficult situations. You're resourceful and you never give up. And you are always up, always ready for something new. And most importantly, you are always you. You don't put on airs or try to manipulate people to get what you want. You are the most real, most honest woman I have ever met."

If she'd been speechless before, now she was dumbstruck. Her eyes began to burn a little as tears pooled in the corners. They continued walking.

"I can't always say the same for myself. I have adopted different personas over the years. When I first joined the Army, I was essentially a street thug. Growing up in the neighborhoods I did, first in Newark and then in Miami, I had to learn quickly how to defend myself and survive on the streets. That toughness, that crudeness, carried over into the Army. And then I met Grace."

Steph stiffened and broke her gait. Ranger put his arm around her waist and drew her close to his side and continued walking.

"Remember, what I had with Grace was fifteen years ago. But Grace did change my life. It is because of her that I have any social graces, at all. She gave me the opportunity, and training, to be able to rise above my street-wise, tough-guy ways and be able to socialize effectively with the rich and privileged classes. I learned to appreciate using a more subtle approach to people, to present a more sophisticated veneer. If I hadn't acquired those skills, I would have never been as successful in business as I am. I owe her a lot."

Steph listened intently, not wanting to hear any of this, but also grateful that Ranger was confiding in her. She didn't know why he was, but just the fact that he was willing to share such intimate and personal details about his life with her, touched her deeply.

"However, underneath this Armani suit, this refined exterior, still beats the heart of a street thug," Ranger continued. "It's all still there, the rough manners and ghetto language, the propensity for violence, the arrogance, and disdain for taking the high road. I'm still the Cuban brute I always was. It's the part of me that comes out when I feel threatened or am angry, like what happened with Abruzzi."

Steph tensed, remembering that Eddie Abruzzi was found dead after he'd tortured and threatened her with death. The official story was that he committed suicide, blew his brains out, but Steph had always suspected that Ranger had killed him to protect her. Ranger kept them walking and talking, his voice thickening, as if his emotions were getting the better of him.

"I can be savagely violent at the drop of a hat and kill without a second thought. I am ruthless in my business dealings and rarely compromise, on anything. I know what I want, and I go after it, despite any obstacles. I play by my own rules. I don't tolerate stupidity, laziness or dishonesty. And. I. Don't. Share," he said, emphasizing each word. He stopped walking and pulled her in front of him so they were facing each other. "I will harm anyone, and I mean anyone, who comes near you. Just the thought of you with another man makes my blood run cold. Morelli doesn't know how lucky he is to still be breathing."

She had a momentary flash of anger at his presumption, his double standard. She started to call him on it, but hesitated. She had never heard him be so candid, to speak about himself or her in those terms. Some of it had been implied over the years, but the fact that he was saying this to her so openly, made her wonder where he was going with this. Ranger didn't speak without a purpose. What he said next, asked next, jolted her to the core.

"Knowing I'm that person, that I have this dark, violent side to me, can you handle that, Babe? Can you accept me as I am, warts and—hell, make it gaping, pus-filled wounds and all?"

She didn't hesitate. "Your dark side is part of you," Steph replied. "I've always known that. I've always accepted it, accepted you, all of you."

He stared at her a moment, studying her upturned face. Then he dropped down on one knee and looked directly up at her. In his deep steady voice, he asked, "Will you marry me, Stephanie Plum?"

Tears sprang unbidden in her eyes and the trembling moved throughout her body. It took a moment to process what he'd just asked her, but when she did, her answer was immediate. "YES!" she screamed, but only in her mind. A split second later, doubts crowded in. Her mind was racing.

"Ranger, I ... I ... I've wanted this for so long. But why? Why now? What changed? What happened to 'I don't do relationships'?"

Ranger didn't breathe for an entire minute, and then he stood up. He reached for her hand and took the sandals she'd been holding, dropping them to the sand. Then he took both her hands in his. His shoulders moved fractionally, a minute shrug. "Your grandmother had something to do with it. She's a wise woman, your abuela. She made me realize I've been in a relationship for years. A relationship with you. I've just been in denial. What Tank would call having my head up my ass. And then, when Tank told me you'd been shot, things dropped into place. I knew I couldn't lose you."

Steph's mind was racing. This was all so unexpected. "What about Grace?" she asked, a frown marring her face.

"What about her? Babe, she hasn't been in my life for years. Seeing her again brought up old memories, and yes, they were good memories, but that's all they were. That's clear to me now. I enjoy many things about Grace and I like her, but I was never in love with her. I am in love with you. I have been for quite some time. It's just that my brain wasn't listening to my heart. I can be stubborn and pig-headed, and usually, it serves me well, but not this time. I've been my own worst enemy. Oddly enough, between your grandmother and Grace, I finally see the light. I want you in my life, in all aspects of my life, not just in my bed." He gave a slight grin. "Though I really, really want you in my bed, too. From now on out, you're mine, Stephanie Plum, if you'll have me. No more Morelli, no Jake, nobody else but me."

Steph listened carefully to Ranger's words. There was no hesitation, no qualifiers, just a direct admission of love and expectation. She nodded. "I can live with that," she said solemnly. She fixed him with her gaze. "Can you live with the person I am? I'm not perfect either. I'm impulsive, I don't like to exercise, I don't want to eat only healthy 'twigs and berries' food. And as for my dark side, I will kill you if you cheat on me. I wanted to kill Dickie, and I don't think I was ever in love with him. If Gra... uh, a woman gets too close to you, I will help her back away, and I'll use force if necessary. I expect your complete love and fidelity. Can you live with that?"

She thought she saw his lips twitch, but he knew her better than to smile. He matched her solemnity and said, "I can live with that."

They stood staring at each other, holding hands, not saying anything. With a deep breath, Ranger dropped back down on one knee and removed a small velvet box, black of course, from his inner jacket pocket. He snapped open the lid so that the contents were immediately visible to her.

She gasped. It was a ring. An enormous round sapphire, deep lustrous blue, mounted on a delicate platinum ring. The ring was formed with two entwined twists of platinum, which disappeared under the sapphire. One of the twists was studded on each side with seven smaller sparkling white diamonds leading up to the dominant sapphire.

He took the ring from the box and held out his hand, palm up. Trembling, she slowly rested her left hand in his. "Will you marry me, Stephanie Plum?"

This time there was no hesitation in saying her answer out loud. "YES!" she cried. "Yes."

As he slid the ring onto her ring finger, he said, "I love you, Stephanie. I want you in my life, by my side. Para siempre. Forever."

Tears streamed down Steph's cheeks. She gazed at the ring and then back down at him. "I love you, Ranger. And I want you in my life, by my side, now and forever."

He stood and his two-hundred-watt smile had never been brighter. He crushed her to him and found her lips with his, deepening the kiss with each second that passed. A lot of seconds passed. When they finally came up for air, Ranger let out a rush of air that sounded suspiciously like "Hooah." He swung Stephanie around in a full circle before setting her down again, leaving her breathless and laughing.

She held her left hand out and up, and looked at the ring on her finger. It sparkled, even in the moonlight. She twined her arms around Ranger's neck and pressed her body full length against his. "I can live with a lifetime with you, and only you."

Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips against his. Then Ranger took over. And as Steph had noted earlier, Ranger didn't do anything halfway. Room 210 was only a five-minute walk away, but it took them twenty to get there, because they kept stopping to kiss, and then kiss some more. And then ... you know.

 **Not quite the end...**

 **AN** We will be posting twice today. Be sure to check back later for the final chapter. Jago-ji and Sonomom have been completely blown away by the wonderful response to our tale of Grace, Ranger and Stephanie. We are grateful for all of the reviews and comments, and have enjoyed every moment of posting this story.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 - Graceful Exit**

 _AN: As The Pardo Girls, we have thoroughly enjoyed the experience of co-writing this story. We hope you've enjoyed the experience of reading it! What better way to end this love story than with two epilogues? Stay tuned for additional stories from us._

 **Epilogue - Fall From Grace**

 _Trenton, One month after Hilton Head_

What the hell's going on? Steph thought, her mind reeling, as she drove back to RangeMan. She replayed the morning's events in her mind again.

Just like the last two Sunday mornings, Ranger had left their bed early, before 5 a.m. They'd been sleeping at her apartment; they'd been together every night since he'd proposed to her at Hilton Head Island. That first Sunday he left, she'd still been asleep and when she'd asked him later where he'd gone, he just said it was work. The second time, they were at Ranger's penthouse apartment and she'd woken up before he left and questioned him. He explained he needed to check the security of a client's building. She didn't think anything about it until the third week.

This third Sunday morning, they were back at her place. She couldn't help herself; she was intensely curious about Ranger's Sunday morning trips. Her spidey sense was driving her crazy, telling her that something was off. When Ranger slipped out of bed again, she followed him. She worried that he would discover her tailing him, or that he'd pull one of those circuitous SDRs and catch her, but he was easy to surveil. He drove straight to his destination: a rundown building in an older part of Trenton, on Fillmore Street. The dilapidated four-story red brick building was set back from the street, surrounded by a chain-link fence, and the blacktop around it was littered with piles of debris.

She'd parked her car on a side street when she saw Ranger's Cayenne stop in front of the chain-link fence. Ranger got out and unlocked the gate. He pulled the Cayenne into the enclosed parking lot, but stayed near the gate. Within a few minutes, another car, an older model white Cadillac, pulled into the lot and Ranger locked the gate behind it. Both cars then drove up to the building's front door and parked.

Steph had quickly run across the street and down the sidewalk until she could poke her head around an adjacent building. She saw Ranger get out of his car and approach the driver's side of the Cadillac. Steph's breath hitched when she saw a woman get out of the white car.

She was too far away to see details, but Steph could see that the woman was an older lady, and very attractive. She was a few inches shorter than Ranger, full-figured, but certainly not fat. She had long, wavy dark hair, almost black. The woman immediately threw her arms around Ranger's neck and hugged him, and he returned the physical embrace. Then they walked up the steps to the front door, each with an arm round the other's waist. Ranger unlocked the large wooden door, and the two of them disappeared into the building.

Steph's mind was swimming with questions ... and doubts. The one thought that was screaming at her: Was this woman another Grace? She told herself she was being absurd. There was a simple explanation. Wasn't there? Maybe it was a client, or a client's wife. Or maybe it was a contractor. After all, who would have a tryst, an assignation, in an old rundown building, and on an early Sunday morning?

Steph drove straight to RangeMan and up to the cubicle she'd been using. She fired up her computer and ran the building on Fillmore through RangeMan's client list and it _was_ one of theirs. Theirs! It was a new feeling for Steph, to really belong to RangeMan.

While they'd still been enjoying their vacation in Hilton Head, Ranger had broached the idea of Steph coming to work for RangeMan, permanently. She had expressed interest, but also concerns with being chained to a desk. She was still on light duty because of her gunshot injuries, and the doctor wouldn't release her to fulltime active duty for a while yet. So she'd been doing occasional filing for Vinnie, and getting to know RangeMan's operational procedures, while Ranger and Tank discussed how best to utilize Steph's talents. They'd come up with a proposed new position, one carved from duties that currently both Ranger and Tank did. The job would mainly entail handling customer relations, fielding questions and resolving complaints from both new and existing clients. Steph would be fulltime at RangeMan Trenton, but would also travel to the other three offices in Boston, Atlanta and Miami to handle problem clients at those offices.

Ranger tended to hire ex-military men, and most of them weren't too perceptive when it came to people's unspoken feelings. It had resulted in some serious problems in all of the offices, when a few clients were either too timid or too intimidated to express their dissatisfaction. RangeMan had lost several lucrative contracts because of it. They needed someone with more finesse and awareness to step in before a serious problem could develop. Ranger felt that Stephanie had an intuitive sense about people and she was good with details, and that this job would be perfect for both her and RangeMan. And this way, Steph would have a challenging, people-oriented job that wasn't dangerous or dirty, and he wouldn't have to handhold nervous, picky clients anymore. Win/win!

Steph leaned back in her chair and studied the computer monitor in front of her, trying to blot out that morning's image of Ranger embracing _that woman_. She still wasn't any closer to knowing who she was. The client that owned the building was a man and a long-term customer, but this particular building was a new purchase for him and only recently had been put under RangeMan security.

"What's got you so quiet, Steph?" Tank queried, looming over her back. "Ah, the McPherson contract," he answered his own question, looking at the computer screen. Tank dropped down into a chair next to Steph's desk. "We haven't had any problems with McPherson. Why are you looking at him?"

Steph hesitated before answering. "Just familiarizing myself with all of our clients. Tell me about McPherson."

Tank chewed on his lower lip. "He was one of our first clients, mainly warehouses. A no-nonsense man. We keep his property safe, he pays us handsomely, rarely gives us any trouble. We meet with him once a year and renew the contract. That's about it."

"What about this new building," Steph inquired. "The one on Fillmore Street. That's not a warehouse."

"No. He bought that one for his wife a few months back. She's into historic buildings. She plans to renovate that dump and turn it into a place for local historical societies to meet. She wants to maintain the building's historic integrity, keep its original windows, cornices, fixtures, etc. The old hardwood floors in there are amazing. With a good professional polishing, they'll look like new again. We added the building to our inventory and are monitoring it, so no one can go in and strip it or vandalize it before she gets her people in there and begins rehabbing it. That won't begin for several months yet."

"Do we have anything to do with it other than monitor it?" she asked.

"No," Tank replied. "We just install the cameras and alarms, and keep track of them."

Steph frowned. "What's she like, Mrs. McPherson?"

Tank shrugged. "She's a scrawny old white lady, sorta like your granny." Tank glanced over at her. "I didn't mean anything bad by that. I'm sure your grandmother is a very nice woman."

Steph waved her hand in dismissal. "I mean, what does she look like?"

"She's old, about eighty, got short white permed hair, walks with a cane, wears long flowered dresses. About yea high," Tank said, lifting his hand to about five feet, palm down, fingers spread.

"Do they have any children?"

Tank pursed his lips. "None that I know of."

"Okay, thanks, Tank," Steph said. He squinted his eyes at her, and then he got up and moved on to talk to the guys at the bank of monitors.

Steph's phone rang, interrupting her restless mind. "Yeah, Mom." She listened for a while. "No, Ranger and I won't be coming to dinner tonight. We came last Sunday, remember?" More listening. "Next Sunday, we're going to Ranger's parents'. They're celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary and their children are throwing them a big party. Yeah, it'll be my first time meeting any of his family." More listening, with an eye roll thrown in. "Maybe we'll be able to make it the week after next, but Mom... don't expect us to come to dinner every Sunday. Ranger and I have our own lives and..." More listening and eye rolling. "Yes, Mom. Gotta go. Bye." Steph hung up and let out a deep breath. She loved her family, but a little distance was a good thing.

Stephanie didn't question Ranger about his whereabouts that morning. He would just say he was working, but working at what? She knew her jealousy was getting the better of her, but she couldn't quell the voices in her head telling her that something was going on. She didn't think she could keep from accusing him of ... of what? Meeting a woman at one of the buildings he monitored? So far, she had nothing to accuse him of. She kept trying to convince herself there was nothing to worry about. That there was still a simple explanation. She just had to find out what it was.

...

Steph was determined to find out who this mystery woman was and why Ranger was meeting her every Sunday morning in an old building on Fillmore Street. Under the guise of getting to know RangeMan's secured buildings and how they are monitored 24/7, she got Lester to give her the key codes to the gate locks on the Fillmore building.

Then, on Sunday morning, just after Ranger slipped out of bed for the fourth Sunday in a row, and dashed down the stairs to the garage, Steph quickly got dressed and stopped by the control room. She told Hal, who was manning the monitors that morning, that she needed his help. In a hushed conspiratorial voice, she confided that she didn't know much about security cameras and their placement, and that she wanted to study one of their secure buildings. She'd picked the old building on Fillmore and was going there that morning, so not to be worried when he saw her go through the gates and look around. And she stressed that she didn't want Ranger or Tank to know she was doing this, because she didn't want them to lose confidence in her. Hal assured her it would be their secret. She hated duping Hal, but she had to know.

When Steph was a block away, she parked her car on a side street and walked to the locked gate. She could see Ranger's black Cayenne and the white Cadillac parked in front of the building. There were large multi-paned windows across the front of the building, but she had to chance that Ranger wouldn't be looking out of them while she slipped through the gate and ran across the parking lot to the building.

The first thing she did when she reached the cars was check to see if she could get in the Caddie and find a car registration or a wallet, but the Caddie was locked.

As she plastered her body against the red brick wall under the first window, she could hear music coming from inside. It sounded like something classical.

She harrumphed to herself. When Ranger wanted to get her "in the mood," he played heavy metal. But with older women, he played Bach or Beethoven? Her blood began to boil.

She lifted up just until she could see through the window into the first floor. It was a huge blank room with a gleaming hardwood floor. At first she didn't see anyone. And then suddenly, both Ranger and the mystery woman glided into view. Ranger held her confidently in his arms as he spun her in graceful slow circles around the room. They both were smiling and staring into each other's eyes.

Steph got a good look at the woman as she whirled by, possessively clutching Ranger in her arms. She looked to be about her own mother's age, but like Grace, this woman was beautiful and, obviously, Ranger thought so, too. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. The music ended and the enthralled couple stopped dancing. The woman giggled once and Ranger twirled her in his arms, then drew her in for a close embrace. It seemed like a tender moment for them, but all Steph could see was red.

She started for the front door, intending to confront them, but stopped herself. She still had no idea who this hussy was. Until she could find out this other woman's identity, she would keep her suspicions to herself. She slunk away, out the gate and back to her car, tears falling down her cheeks.

She sat in her car until she could get her emotions under control, then she drove back to her apartment. It was time to start preparing for Ranger's parents' party. She wanted to make a good first impression, though she began to wonder if his family would ever become her family, given Ranger's wandering eyes ... and arms.

...

Steph stepped into her shower still analyzing what she'd seen that morning. She had tried to put it out of her mind and concentrate on getting ready to meet Ranger's family, but instead, she had worked up a fine fury. Wielding her loofah like a weapon, she scrubbed her skin until it was raw. Shaving her legs wasn't any better and she nicked herself several times. Each bleeding cut only served to fuel her growing anger.

How could Ranger do this to her? Was he really cheating on her? Or was this other woman an old flame like Grace, trying to rekindle Ranger's past attraction to her? Because no one could convince her that Grace wouldn't have welcomed Ranger back into her bed. What really hurt was that Ranger didn't seem to be trying very hard to fight this new woman off. If he didn't do relationships, how come he had all these old "friendships" popping up? Did Ranger have a thing for older women? And the worst thing about all of this, was that Ranger was keeping it a secret, telling her he was working while he was having this ... this ... whatever it was he was doing with this bimbo, this jezebel.

By the time Ranger arrived to pick her up, she was seething. "Are you ready to meet my family, Babe?" Ranger asked as he helped her into his Porsche.

"Yes," she replied, her teeth clenched tightly together.

Ranger frowned as he pulled out of her parking lot. "Are you OK?"

Steph took a deep breath and tried to settle down. "I'm fine," she insisted.

"You don't seem fine," he countered. "You seem angry."

Deflection, that was the answer. She began, "Who all is going to be at the party?"

Ranger glanced over at her and frowned again. "My entire immediate family will be there. I have four sisters and a brother, and they each have spouses and children. My maternal grandmother and her ... beau. I am assuming my mother's two sisters and their families will be there. I know my uncle, my father's brother, and his wife are flying in from Miami. And my parents have lots of friends in Newark, so expect a large crowd."

"Tell me about your sisters and brother. What are they like?" she prompted. She tried to relax back in her seat while Ranger talked about his siblings. He related several stories about when they were all children. The drive into Newark passed quickly.

When Ranger grew quiet again, Steph asked, "Will Julie be there?"

Ranger shook his head. "Rachel won't let Julie fly by herself, not after Scrog. And she has Julie enrolled in a summer swim camp. Rachel told me it wasn't a good time for Julie to be gone."

She heard him exhale under his breath. Her anger softened a bit. One of her goals was to have Julie visit them in Trenton more often. Both father and daughter deserved to get to know each other better.

"Is the party going to be at your parents' house?" she asked.

"No. Too many people." He turned into a large parking lot. "They rented a hall. This one," he informed her, nodding toward the long, single-story building in front of them. "There'll be a catered dinner, and a live band."

Steph looked up and saw they were at their destination. She also saw an older model white Cadillac parked near the front door. "There's going to be dancing?" she exclaimed, staring at the Caddie, feeling her temper rise.

"Of course," he said, parking the vehicle and turning off the engine. "No self-respecting Cuban man would throw a party without music and dancing. And my father is all that and more. He loves to dance. No, it's more than that. He lives to dance."

"I suppose you love to dance, too?" she muttered.

"I do, Babe. Get used to it. I plan to dance your shoes off tonight. Plus, all the men in my family will have to take you out on the dance floor for a test drive."

He gave her his two-hundred-watt smile, the same smile she'd seen him shine on that _other woman_ this morning. Her anger spiked from a low boil to a raging inferno.

"Dancing!" she uttered. "I'd dance with you if you'd ever _ask_ me. But no... _you_ sneak away to do _your_ dancing."

"Babe?" He glanced over at her, his brows contorted into a wrinkle.

Stephanie turned in her seat and glared at him. "I saw you! I saw you dancing with another woman this morning. And don't try to tell me that you were working. Nothing in your job description requires you to waltz around old buildings with beautiful women." Her chest was heaving, her jaws clenched and her eyes wide open.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" she cried.

Ranger didn't say anything, he just gazed calmly at her. Then to her shock, he reached over and picked up her left hand, bringing it to his lips. Gently fingering the sapphire ring on her hand, he told her, "Hold that thought, Babe. Let's go in and meet my family. I think all your questions will be answered very soon." He opened the door and exited the car.

Still seething, Steph threw open the car door and got out with a huff. Slamming the door shut, she shrugged off his offered hand and stalked into the building ahead of him. Front and center was a huge white banner printed with the words, "Happy 40th Anniversary, Ricardo and Sofia." There were dozens of people milling around, talking in small groups, drinking and sampling finger foods. Stephanie realized she knew no one in the hall. She turned back and nearly bumped into Ranger, who reached out and steadied her.

Seconds later, they were surrounded by people, all introducing themselves to Stephanie and hugging her, welcoming her into the family. As Steph tried to process the chaos around her, she recognized the family resemblance among his brother and sisters, and even many of their children. The Mañoso gene appeared to be dominant.

And then, the background music changed to a dramatic crescendo and everyone stopped talking. The lights dimmed and a spotlight appeared at the end of the hall, encompassing a wide double door. The hushed crowd turned as one toward the closed doors. On cue, the music changed to the opening bars of a Cuban bolero, and the doors swung outward revealing an older couple, resplendent in their evening wear. As the music grew louder, the couple swept out onto the floor and began dancing. People quietly moved to the edges of the room, and watched them twirl and swirl around the room in a graceful waltz-like dance in perfect timing to the melody.

Stephanie stood in front of Ranger at the edge of the dance floor, and watched the man and woman glide by. She couldn't help but stare at the faces of the dancing couple. It felt like her heart was thudding out of her chest. The man was definitely related to Ranger, or more accurately, Ranger was related to this older distinguished gentleman. But it was also obvious that Ranger was related to the older woman. As Steph followed the couple's graceful dance, her sheepish smile grew larger with each passing moment. Clearly, this couple was Ranger's mother and father. Equally clear was that the woman was the same one she had seen dancing with Ranger earlier that morning. And now, she recognized the music.

Steph leaned back against Ranger's chest and murmured, "I'm so sorry."

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "De nada, Babe."

Slowly, a tear slid down Stephanie's cheek, followed by several more. She quickly wiped them away, but it was a useless gesture, as they kept coming. It took a while for her to notice that nearly half the room was also in tears as they gazed at the happy dancing couple.

Ranger drew her away from the dance floor and guided her out the door to the parking lot. He sat down on the hood of his mother's Caddie and pulled Steph in between his legs. In a quiet voice, he explained, "My mother has never been able to dance and it has been her lifelong shame. She's always had two left feet. But as I told you earlier, my father loves to dance. When they started planning this anniversary party, she finally decided to do something about it and asked me to help her. She swore me to secrecy. She wanted Papa to be proud of her, and for him to be able to finally enjoy dancing with her without getting his feet stepped on. I'm sorry I kept our dancing lessons from you, but I promised her that I would keep her secret."

"You're a good son. Should I say, you're full of grace?" she grinned briefly, and then grew serious again. "I'm so ashamed I didn't trust you. It's just that you seem to attract women, a lot of attractive women."

Ranger grimaced. "I don't ask for or want their attention. I only want yours." He closed his mouth and then opened it as if to say something, and then shut up again. When he did speak, there was an undercurrent of emotion beneath his words. "As for you following me, I understand. If I thought you were sneaking off with another man, I'd kill the guy first and ask questions later." Steph squirmed a little in his arms, and he cocked his head. "Do I need to kill someone?" he asked.

She gave a wry smile and shook her head. "You're my one and only. But I still should have trusted you. I guess the thing with Grace shook me up more than I thought. She's still in love with you, you know that, don't you?"

"Grace and I were never in love. But, yeah, there was still some attraction there. However, I'm glad things happened the way they did, even you finding out about Grace. Now there are no secrets. I'm good at keeping secrets, but there shouldn't be any between us. From now on out, the only secrets I'll keep will be yours ... including the one where you mistook my mother for an old lover of mine. Mama would not appreciate being thought of in that way."

"I certainly won't tell her," Steph vowed. "I would like to meet her, though, and your father, too. Do you think we'll make it to our 40th wedding anniversary?"

"Yes, we will. I'm already planning our 50th celebration," Ranger smiled. "But first, Babe, we need to get married. Are you ready to set a wedding date?"

"Yeah, I think I am. But tonight, let's concentrate on your parents' celebration. Can we go back inside? I'm ready to have my shoes danced off my feet."

She grinned and pulled Ranger to his feet. Wordlessly, he leaned down and kissed her. That kiss led to another, and another. It wasn't until one of Ranger's little nephews poked his head out the door and yelled, "Ewww, they're kissing!" that they stopped. Then, with their arms around each other's waists, they rejoined the party.

 **Epilogue - A State of Grace**

 _Savannah, Two Months After Hilton Head_

She breathed in the familiar scent of the club. It was a heady combination of the smell of the leather-bound books filling the oak bookshelves with their beeswax-polished shine, and the mild aroma of pipe tobacco gently wafting in from the smoking lounge. Her staff was scurrying to make finishing touches that would ensure her guests a comfortable experience. She watched the last minute preparations every day, and it usually filled her with a sense of well-being, but today, something was off.

She walked to the center of the room and surveyed the symmetrical arrangement of the well-preserved Chesterfield sofas in front of the fireplace. Even in the heat of summer, there was a fire burning, as the air conditioner discreetly circulated cool air. It was probably breaking some rule of ecological soundness, cooling and heating at the same time, but it was necessary to maintain the illusion.

Her club was a haven. A place where the worries of the world could be forgotten for a few hours as her gentlemen came to imbibe, converse, read, smoke their favorite tobacco blend, or just unwind. The décor, mostly unchanged from her father's day was classic. Club chairs casually grouped for conversation added to the feeling that a patron had stepped off the streets of modern day Savannah into another time. One when elegance and courtly manners ruled. Her clientele was not large, but they were all wealthy gentlemen, most with pedigrees predating the war for Southern Independence. They afforded her a better than good living.

Things would change, she knew. She was a little surprised they hadn't already. She was ready to bring the club into the next century. Women would soon be part of the mix. She did nothing to encourage or discourage the change, instead waiting for it to come as part of the natural societal evolution. She was prepared. Her establishment would thrive on the change. But for now it was business as usual.

It was good to be home, but the memory of Trenton lingered. Carlos, and Stephanie, his partner in every sense of the word, had saved her life. She owed them unending gratitude and wished them every happiness. But if she was completely truthful with herself, she was melancholy. Longing for something that might have been, but now never would be. Carlos and Stephanie were together and nothing she could say or do would rekindle the feelings Carlos once had for her.

Shaking herself out of her introspection, she left her employees to do their jobs and went to prepare for her special dinner guest. Her apartment was tucked away at the back of the club, with its own entrance. The design of her private space was the feminine version of her club's decor, and it was a style she'd incorporate throughout the club when the changes came.

The dinner preparations had been taken care of by the staff and she had little to do but to wait. She'd didn't have an Ella in her employ, but she didn't think her guest would be disappointed. She started to feel the buzz of anticipation. She remembered the quietly building energy she'd felt all those years ago, when Carlos was her new guest. There was nothing like the feeling of satisfaction she received from tutoring a worthy young man, and Carlos had been more than worthy. With a final sigh for what could have been, she turned her thoughts to what would be.

Her expected guest was different from her usual fare. Although they knew each other only superficially, she knew instinctively, he wasn't untutored. Probably that's what her unease was about. She was stepping outside her well-constructed world. Maybe taking a little walk on the wild side. Change was good, and she had a feeling tonight would be very good.

The doorbell chimed. She willed herself to move languidly. It wouldn't do for him to think she was eager. She prided herself on always having the upper hand and she intended for that distribution of power to continue, no matter what the experience of her dinner guest. She opened the door to welcome him.

As he stepped across the threshold his eyes took her in. She smiled at the appreciation she saw. She'd taken pains to hide the signs of her age. Something it was getting harder and harder to do, but from the look in his eyes she'd been successful.

"Grace." It was a one-word greeting and maybe a promise. Her heart fluttered wildly as he came to her and wrapped muscled arms around her. His lips on hers obliterated her well-defined agenda for the evening.

Drawing back, she returned his one-word greeting with the hope that his promise would be fulfilled. "Pierre!"

 **The End**


End file.
